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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT; 



FIVE ADDRESSES 



FIVE ADDRESSES AND 
DEVOTIONAL POEMS 



By NATHAN KIRK GRIGGS 



WITH AN INTRODUCTORY 
BIOGRAPHY 



3ln MtmovXum 



REPORTER PUBLISHING COMPANY 
LINCOLN, NEBRASKA 

MCMXI 



3X7^5.1 



Copyright, 1911 

BY 

Mrs. N. K. Griggs 



j$ 1-0 

«taA3i2440 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION 5 

CHRIST IN AMERICA'S LIFE . . 33 

Delivered at the Centennial Convention of the Church 
of the Disciples of Christ, at Pittsburg, Pa., Oc- 
tober 14, 1909. 

BIBLE LITERATURE 53 

CHRIST OF THE FOUR . . . . 89 

TWO MIRACLES . . . . . .141 

FORCE TO GOD . . . . .193 

DEVOTIONAL POEMS ... 217 



INTRODUCTION 



Introduction 



I. 

The addresses which are brought together in 
this volume are the last labor of love of a life 
filled with helpful labors. They were written 
during the years 1908, 1909, 1910, as by-product 
of a busy lawyer's work, in hours which for the 
ordinary man of affairs would have been hours 
of relaxation. On the last of the five addresses, 
unfinished at the time of his death, the author 
was engaged, characteristically, in a spare hour 
before the coming of the train which was to take 
him upon his final earthly journey. This was 
entirely typical of his method and his purpose: 
he was forced by the demands of an energetic 
business life to do the work that lay nearest his 
heart, on railway cars, during station waits, or 
in the weary evening hour after the active day; 
yet no call of affairs obscured for a moment the 
keen interest or the clear intention which made 
this, his final labor, seem less than an ever- 
urgent and an ever-dear duty. 

For the thought which the addresses embody 
form the confession of faith of a strong and ac- 



tive man, tlie testament of a mature and reflec- 
tive mind in those questions of the spirit which 
are of the highest importance to every human 
being. The author would have been last of men 
to assert for the results of his thinking any spe- 
cial validity on the score of research or of theo- 
logical acumen ; he was not a professional schol- 
ar; he was not a theologian. But he did feel, 
and rightly, that the earnest attempt of a sincere 
mind to measure the evidences of the religious 
truth is always of importance to one's fellows ; he 
felt that it is the duty of the sincere mind to 
make such an attempt, each in its own right ; and 
again he felt that every man owes to his fellows 
the honest expression of honest conviction. 

So much Mr. Griggs would have asserted and 
with such intentions would he have put his work 
forth, — at once modestly and courageously. 
Others may, perhaps, say more. For there is 
assuredly a value in the effort of a mind trained 
to the sifting of evidence to estimate the values 
of human opinions on any question which is near 
to the plain man's intelligence, and this every 
religion which has meaning must ever be. Mr. 
Griggs was a lawyer eminent in his profession, 
widely recognized for his logical and forceful 
analysis of legal evidence. And all the gifts 
that he derived from the study and practice of 
the law he utilized in his presentation of this, 
his great brief for religious faith. 

Nevertheless, the strength of his work is not 



primarily its logic, any more than it is its schol- 
arship or its theology. Far more than in these 
his power lay in the gift of sympathetic imagi- 
nation. He was less interested in reasons than 
in the vivid impressions of human experience. 
The sensible and emotional values of ideas were 
to him their dominant values, since these are the 
values by which ideas most affect conduct. By 
nature and temperament he was a poet, and it 
is but attestation of the poetic quality of his 
faith to say that it is the vital beauty of the 
Christian conception that most stirred in him 
the spirit of devotion. 

The reader of the addresses will perceive at 
once their aesthetic cast. Mr. Griggs was an 
orator, and he loved the bright and picturesque 
language of oratory. He was a poet, and his 
fancy was ever seeking expresssion in trope and 
metaphor. More than all he was of so nimble a 
wit and of such abounding sympathy that his 
instinct seldom failed to carry him to the heart 
of any issue or any situation. With these quali- 
ties fully enlisted, he has given a zealous and elo- 
quent portrayal of the best insight of his best 
self. And it is because that self, his whole per- 
sonality, is one which all who knew him recog- 
nized as noble that the ring of spiritual nobility 
sounds throughout this souFs confession. 

II. 

Of the five addresses, the first, "Christ in 

7 



America's Life" was written for delivery at the 
centennial convention of his church, the Chris- 
tion Church, held at Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, 
on October 14, 1909. The theme of it is to be 
found in the one brief sentence, "God fashions 
history." It is a perspective of Christianity, not 
in America alone, but in the whole course of 
the lives of the nations, and it is conceived and 
written, not from a sectarian point of view, but 
from the point of view of Christian Brother- 
hood, — thus beautifully conforming to the pur- 
poses of the founders of the denomination with 
which he had joined for active work. After its 
delivery the address was printed in pamphlet 
form in response to numerous requests and let- 
ters of appreciation; and it is here included, as 
fitting in theme and style, the works with which 
it is associated. 

The four addresses which follow were planned 
as a distinct and whole work. They were writ- 
ten severally, and each of the completed ones was 
many times delivered individually; yet in the 
author's mind they were a co-ordinate group in- 
tended to give supplementary expositions of one 
central theme, the grounds of his Christian faith, 
and it was his expectation to present them, as 
they are here presented, in one printed volume. 

"Bible Literature" is a record of impressions 
made by the sublimer passages of the Old Testa- 
ment story of the Creation and of the coming of 
Israel unto Canaan. It is said that each of us 



takes from a book what he brings to it. Mr. 
Griggs' gift to the Bible was an ardent interest 
in the spirit behind the letter, and he brought 
from it not only inspiration for himself but for 
the many who were glad to be his listeners or 
readers. 

The two addresses respectively entitled "Two 
Miracles" and "Christ of the Four" form the 
lawyer's brief for the central contention of 
Christianity, the divinity of Christ. The theme 
of "Two Miracles" is expressed in the query, 
"Which of two miracles shall be believed, that 
Jesus arose, or did not arise?" And answering 
from history, that such a record as Christianity 
has made in the world could not be founded 
upon a falsehood, he affirms, as thoughtful 
cogent reason, the truth of the Eesurrection. 

"Christ of the Four" deals with the truthful- 
ness of the Four Gospels as the authentic por- 
traiture of the life and mission of Jesus. An 
immense range of literature is passed in review, 
not critically, but allusively; while the validity 
of the Gospel picture is finally maintained on 
the ground of the intense impression once 
created and still created, by the personality of 
Jesus; no phantom being could mean so much 
for so many men of so many ages. And here 
again, the author's instinct goes to the heart of 
the argument for Christian truth. 

For the unfinished address which was to close 
the series Mr. Griggs had reserved the title, 
"Force." The force which he had in mind is the 



display of Divine Being in the works of Nature 
and in the minds of men. The address was 
meant to be a study of man's progressive ap- 
prehension of the Divine Personality, a study of 
the conception of God in growth and fruition. 
The breadth and quickness of the author's sym- 
pathies is here manifest ; for he is ready to rec- 
ognize the partial insights of pagan creeds along 
with the fullness of Christian revelation. In 
none of his work is the extensiveness of his read- 
ing more evident. He seldom undertook a jour- 
ney without carrying with him a supply of 
books bearing upon religious history, and never 
returned from the book-making centers without 
an augmentation of his library. From many 
sources he drew his materials, shaping them all 
to the one end of interpretation of Nature as a 
manifestation of Divine Life. 

"Bible Literature" is a record of personal im- 
pressions; "Two Miracles" and "Christ of the 
Four" are an analytical argument for the truth 
of the New Testament; the essay on "Force" 
may be regarded as a poetic recognition of the 
divinity that alike actuates the world of nature 
and of human impulse. It is, in sort, a perora- 
tion, designed not to convince by reason, but to 
hold by sympathy. At the time of the author's 
death it was within a few pages of completion. 
The plan called for a brief interpretation of the 
religion of the classic peoples, the Greeks and 
Romans, and then for an epilogue upon the tran- 
scendent contribution of the Christian religion. 

10 



For Ms friends it will ever be a regret that, in 
sight of the fulfillment of his cherished plan, his 
pen was stayed ; yet surely it will ever be a con- 
solation that the last sentence which that pen 
set down embodies a conception at once so fine 
and so true to the author's mind : "And thought 
of man had winged to throne of God." 

III. 

The life or Nathan Kirk Griggs is a character- 
istic example of a type of life that now belongs 
to America's past. He belonged to the last gen- 
eration of pioneers and he lived to see the "fron- 
tier," which had made the pioneer life typical of 
America from the time of its first settlement to 
his own day, entirely wiped out by the ad- 
vancing wave of population and the construc- 
tion of the great transcontinental thorough- 
fares. His place in the world and the manifes- 
tations of his character were in large part the 
result of an environment mingling hardship 
with hopefulness, offering limited facilities for 
inner cultivation but great opportunities for an 
energetic and aggressive personality. 

The movement of the native American stock, 
in the United States, may be figured as a series 
of Westward waves, each generation since the 
Revolution marking a crest in the trans-con- 
tinental progression. Mr. Griggs' Colonial an- 
cestry included members of the families to 
which belonged Benjamin West, the painter, 

11 



and Robert Morris, the Philadelphia financier 
of the Revolution. His direct forebears, of the 
Griggs name, were Connecticut Yankees with a 
redoubtable record of service in the Revolu- 
tionary War. Only through his mother's father, 
a Scottish immigrant, was he of post-Revolu- 
tionary extraction. His father, Lucien Griggs, 
was carried by the first wave of westward emi- 
gration to Indiana, in his day the frontier. Tike 
the son, he was a lawyer by profession, with a 
ready aptitude for frontier ways which was win- 
ning him rapid recognition when an early death 
intercepted. The mother — Mary Kirk, she had 
been before marriage — was left with two young 
sons and two yet younger daughters to provide 
for ; and this she did first by assuming the man- 
agement of a local grist mill near their Frank- 
fort home, and later from a farm to which the 
family removed when the boys were old enough 
to work it. 

The younger of the sons. Kirk, as he was fa- 
miliarly called, was four years old at the time of 
his father's death, having been born at Frankfort, 
October 25, 1844. In a hard pressed and hard 
working family there was little opportunity for 
education other than such as might be ^'picked 
up" during the snowy term of the district school. 
In that day this was a fair measure of the aver- 
age Westerner's schooling, and the brighter 
pupils became masters at an early age. It is 
therefore not surprising that a boy of Kirk's 
energy should, at the age of seventeen, be teach- 

12 



ing those who were well his elders. The situation 
is the one celebrated in the long famous 
^'Hoosier Schoolmaster" — for which, indeed, the 
youth might well have served as model. 

A few terms of teaching gave him means to 
pursue his cherished study of the law. Here 
again the simplicity of the old-time require- 
ments aided him and bringing to the study a 
brilliant vitality and quick intellect he was able 
in one year to complete the course then offered 
by the University of Indiana, graduating in 
1867 to membership in his father's profession. 

Following the frontiersman instinct native to 
their race the elder brother had already "gone 
We«t" and had "homesteaded" in Nebraska 
Thither came the younger son with the mother 
of the family when he was ready to take up his 
professional life. He determined upon the town 
of Beatrice as a promising location, and on June 
3, 1867, walked to that place from his brother's 
home in a neighboring county, saying character- 
istically that he would never leave the town in 
a poorer fashion than he entered it. 

In Beatrice his success, social and business, 
was immediate. There were a few hard days, 
when he turned his hand to anything that came 
— and made something come; but he speedily 
won abundant occupation in his profession. 

It was here, too, that he met the lady who was 
to be (in the utmost truthfulness of the oft-used 
phrase, for theirs was such a union as makes 
marriage beautiful) his life's companion. Miss 

13 



Epsie E. Saunders. They were married in Delhi. 
Iowa, on December 21, 1869. Forty anniver- 
saries of that day they were to count together, 
happy from the first and happier as the years 
sped. Two daughters and a son were theirs, nor 
during the father's life was there any break in 
the family group. 

Politics, the natural attraction of the young 
lawyer, was for Mr. Griggs a direct road to 
prominence in the growing state. Almost with 
his first appearance he was made president of a 
state convention of his party, the republican 
party — a recognition subsequently several times 
bestowed. In 1871 he was a member of the Ne- 
braska constitutional convention and; in 1872 
he was elected to the state senate, the youngest 
member of that body. That his success was em- 
phatic is shown from the manner of the news- 
paper comments of the time: "Able, determined 
and thorough, he has given his constituency in 
this part of the district entire satisfaction" ; and 
again, from a journalist differing as to matters 
of policy, "Due consideration convinces one that 
his actions are his belief, and that he believes in 
doing what he ought, let what will come of it." 

He was re-elected to the state senate in 1874, 
by an unparalleled majority, and at the ensuing 
session was chosen president of that body. A 
newspaper paragraph of the time thus describes 
him: 

Hon. N. K. Griggs of Beatrice is the man who 
14 



represents the largest area and probably the largest 
cionstituency of any member in the body, there 
b^ang sixteen counties in his district. Mr. Griggs 
is tall and slender, of an excessively nervous tem- 
perament, an intellect of the qnick, brilliant type, 
well stored with practical knowledge. In fact, he 
is pre-eminently the ready and rapid man of busi- 
ness, the skilled tactician and thorough parliamen- 
tarian, which fits him above all others to fill the 
position to which he has been elected in the senate. 

Another reporter says of Mm: "He is tall, 
rather slim, neat and trim in his build, dark hair 
and eyes, quick in motion, nervous, energetic, 
and a most capital presiding officer/' While an 
editorial comment affirms, "Had he not been 
chosen as the presiding officer, he would most 
certainly have been the leader of the senate. '^ 

There must have been something irresistible 
about the young man. His energies were inex- 
haustible and his activities multifarious. He was 
delivering addresses in many fields, patriotic, 
agricultural, masonic, as well as political, and 
was known as an effective orator. He was on 
the boards of public institutions. His pen was 
ever busy. In 1873 he had made a tour of the 
west, over the new Union Pacific railway, and 
Salt Lake City, San Francisco and Southern 
California, had in turn been described for his 
home papers. Similar traveler's letters appeared 
in connection with his attendance at the Knight 
Templar's Conclave at New Orleans in 1874. He 
was well known, too, for his musical powers, a 

15 



paper of the opposition remarking that "His 
glory as a senator is entirely eclipsed by his re- 
nown as a Sabbath school songster." 

In politics Mr. Griggs had already earned for 
himself one of those picturesque sobriquets 
which it was the habit of the times to fix upon 
public favorites — the "stormy petrel" he was 
called; and by friends and foes alike he was 
given credit for designs and "wire-pulling" abili- 
ties which he probably never possessed. His 
name was proposed by the press in connection 
with various offices, Justice of the State Court, 
National Representative, Senator. 

It is not surprising that his superiors in po- 
litical station found it expedient to suggest an 
alternative preferment; and so, in 1876, we find 
him appointed by President Grant United 
States consul for Chemnitz, Saxony. The ap- 
pointment came without solicitation, and the 
recipient, well understanding its object, was at 
first unwilling to accept. But the lure of the 
Old World was too strong ; his temperament was 
restless and eager, and he was not fundamen- 
tally ambitious for political advancement. It 
was chiefly in a quizzical vein that he wrote in 
answer to a friend's inquiry : 

I am in receipt of yours inquiring how I came 
to be a consul. A short time before I was appointed 
to my present position certain influential persons, 
who apparently took great interest in my welfare, 

16 



suggested tliat I was a very proper person to rep- 
resent the great American nation abroad, and that, 
if I so desired, they would secure my appointment 
to a consular position across the ocean. As I did 
not at once signify my desire to "leave my country 
for my country 's good" they gave me many reasons 
why it would be to my interest to do so. They said 
it was far more economical to live abroad than at 
home; that, in fact, I would very rarely have any 
use for money as the exporters, to our country, 
would consider it a great honor to be allowed to 
make me a present of whatever I wanted. As the 
prospects of being degraded to the position of an 
official alms-taker — ^the quaggy receiver of a pol- 
luted stream — did not have the desired effect, I 
was then drenched with a certain nostrum which 
has scarcely ever been known to fail in the disease 
known, politically, as "enlargement of the con- 
science." They hinted at the champagne suppers 
which would be given in my honor. They said they 
did not doubt but the people of my district would 
ever bare their heads, in my presence, in token of 
their great respect for me. They declared that, as 
our Yankee Doodle nation was the greatest and the 
best, the lions and the bears and the poorly fledged 
birds, of other nations, take la back seat when our 
glorious eagle puts in an appearance, and that the 
crowns of Kingdoms and Empires were always 
apologetically lifted whenever an American repre- 
sentative was around. They said that "consules 
missies^* were the acknowledged leaders of society 
and therefore^ — ^as I should be a "consul missus*' 
myself — at would be necessary for me to overcome 
any aversion I might have to dancing, and, with a 
queen or a duchess in my arms, waltz at the first 
court ball which I attended; this, they intimated, 
would probably satisfy the noble ladies and would 

17 



doubtless be accepted by the public generally as a 
token of my willingness to take that position in 
society to whicli my exalted rank entitled me. The 
persuasive words used by Pygmalion to induce the 
goddess of beauty to imbue his chisel-formed Venus 
with life, were not more seductive than were those 
of my friends. Obeisant crowns ! Leader of society ! 
Waltzing with queens ! Duchess in my arms ! I cared 
to hear no more. 

The six years' stay in Germany, from 1876 to 
1882, if it was without profit pecuniarily, was 
unquestionably of great intellectual value to a 
man of Mr. Griggs' receptive mind. The duties 
of a consular oflGlce, even of one commercially so 
important as Chemnitz then was, were not of an 
exacting nature. The young consul found time 
for some travel, on the Continent and in Great 
Britain. He became interested in German 
music and art, and made a modest collection of 
artistic works. He had time for books, and laid 
the foundation for what was to grow into a 
really fine private library, — placing his vol- 
umes, chiefly of the Tauchnitz series, with a 
struggling young binder, who became his life- 
long friend. The German stay was, in short, a 
sort of university, serving the purpose of ad- 
vanced education fully as well as did the colleges 
of the day. 

Nor was this advantage obtained to the detri- 

18 



ment of the service. During Ms stay Mr. Griggs 
won the hearty esteem of the men of affairs with 
whom he had to deal, — no less for his upright 
and fearless principles than for fairness and 
ability in business. At the time of his depar- 
ture, a Nebraska newspaper remarked: 

"If there is anything on earth that is likely to 
disgust the Germans, it is Consul Griggs^ ca- 
pacity for lager beer. He has neither diameter 
nor circumference." 

When he came to leave Chemnitz the German 
manufacturers of the place tendered him a ban- 
quent at which the only drink served was water, 
— then an unprecedented recognition of a 
foreigner's habit. At this same banquet the 
departing consul was presented with an ornate 
German album, replica of one prepared for the 
emperor, containing portraits of the leading 
manufacturers and the officers of the city and 
views of Chemnitz and vicinity. It was de- 
scribed in the Chemnitzer Tagehlatt as "ein 
Meisterstueck deutscher Kunstindustrie." The 
same paper said, of the occasion : 

Herr Griggs m^ well be proud that such a token 
of honor is bestowed upon hdm, and this from the 
manufacturers of the greatest industrial city of 
Germany. All the more so, since this is the first 
time that in our city such a distinction has been 
bestowed upon a consul, and ©specially the first 
banquet which the manufacturers have prepared 
in honor of the services of one man. 

As a matter of fact the friendships formed 

19 



during the Chemnitz stay were green and living 
to the day of Mr. Griggs' death. On his later 
trips thither, in 1900 and again in 1909, he was 
heartily welcomed by old-time friends who still 
remembered him for the qualities enumerated in 
the speech accompanying the presentation of the 
album : "On the one side accuracy and honor in 
official business, on the other a talent for com- 
radeship, social virtues and an uprightness in 
private life which, in so brief a time, had won 
the respect and friendship of all.'' 

In 1882 Mr. Griggs returned to America and 
resumed the practice of law in Beatrice. So far 
as politics was concerned the foreign consul- 
ship had served, as, no doubt, was anticipated. 
Thenceforth he held no public office, though he 
was a conspicuous orator in the political cam- 
paigns of the eighties : "the best speech we have 
listened to during the campaign," is a charac- 
teristic press comment of the day. But business 
interests were multiplying under his hand, and 
besides there were interests of another sort, 
stimulated by his contact with Old World cul- 
ture which were thenceforth to be the real core 
of his intellectual life. 

From the Continent he had kept up his habit 
of writing descriptive letters for the home press. 
He frequented art galleries, and recorded his im- 
pressions, — not always in line with the opinions 
of critics, for he was ever downright and sin- 
cere: "In art galleries," he says, in one of the 

20 



letters, "two kinds of fools are met — Indiscrimi- 
nating and critical. The indiscriminating fool 
says of every picture, *0h! how beautiful!' al- 
though there may be no more beauty in the pic- 
ture admired than there is in a circus poster; 
the critical fool criticises every painting he sees, 
although he knows no more of the merits and de- 
merits of that which he criticises than does a 
dog of modesty. As the second class has the ad- 
vantage of variety and originality, I should pre- 
fer to be of that rather than of the first class.'' 
As a matter of fact, his impressions were usual- 
ly just. He was unwilling to admire a Raphael 
just because it was a Raphael, while having the 
highest appreciation of that painter's greater 
works. He liked Rubens, though willing to joke 
at his expense. And from every work he car- 
ried away an individual impression : 

Ruhens' ''Elevation" and ''Descent" from the 
Cross are not beautiful paintings, but they are 
mournful, fascinating, and yet almost repulsive in 
their ghastliness. Rubens displays his grim humor 
in the "Elevation of the Cross," by painting his 
own portrait as one of the miscreants who is assist- 
ing in raising the cross on which is nailed the suffer- 
ing Savior. I am not enough of an artist to say 
in what these pictures excel, but I do know that I 
was more impressed by them than by all the paint- 
ings in the exposition at Philadelphia combined. In 
the Cathedral (Notre Dame, Antwerp) there is a 
painting by Leonardo da Vinci; it is a portrait of 
the head of Christ. It is painted on marble, and 
startles you with its earnestness and beauty. From 

21 



whatever position you see it, it seems to be look- 
ing at yon with, the intensity and intelligence of 
life. Whosoever has seen this painting once can 
never forget it. 

There were letters on social and historical 
subjects as well. ^'Labor in Saxony," "Coffee 
and Bavarian Beer," "Free Masonry in Ger- 
many," — these are some of the titles. Again, he 
was writing on music, for the American Regis- 
ter. "The greatest pleasure of a residence in 
Germany," he says, "is to hear and to learn to 
understand the works of the great composers." 
And it is music which most arouses his pen's 
enthusiasm: "The brush of the painter may 
faithfully picture all the human passions — this 
also may the pen of the composer do. The words 
of the orator may move you with their sadness, 
may touch you with their sweetness, may arouse 
you with their passion, may inspire you with 
their grandeur — and all this, also, may the 
measures of the musician do." 

It is not surprising that he responded readily 
to this influence of German music. He had 
never received musical training, but he pos- 
sessed music naturally. He could not remem- 
ber w^hen he had learned to read music. As a 
boy he had acquired, in an effortless way, ability 
with fife and flute. He had been singing master 
as a youth; and to the day of his death he was 
seldom without a pocketful of notes — melodies 
jotted down, records of the songs of birds, 
sketches for compositions. His gift for melody 

22 



was genuine and generous, and a lifelong source 
of creative joy. His published works, in this 
field ("The Lilies," 1890, a collection of devo- 
tional songs and hymns; ^'The Voices of the 
Wind," 1896-1904, including six collections of 
secular songs and two of sacred solos and an- 
thems; and "Four New Songs," 1907) are simple 
and direct compositions, comprising many 
songs of rare dash and verve as well as many of 
sweet and melodious beauty. At the time of his 
death he had just completed a Christmas can- 
tata, "The Pole King," uniting with the sing- 
able quality an abundance of picturesque fancy. 

But it was not alone the musical impulse 
which was stimulated to expression. Already 
while in Germany he had begun to write and 
publish poems, several appearing in The North 
British Advertiser as well as in American 
papers. This gift he cultivated assiduously, a 
home journalist commenting: 

Hon. N. K. Griggs, U. S. consul at Chemnitz, is 
at home on a visit. When he went to Europe, five 
years ago, he was known as an energetic lawyer 
and politician. That he had ability, nobody doubted, 
but that it would ever find expression in anything 
but plain prose, nobody mistrusted. But since his 
residence abroiad, he has developed a wonderful 
streak of poetry — ^no mere amateur's verse either. 

As a matter of fact he had always been a lover 
of poetry. It was the opportunity for cultivat- 
ing it that had been lacking. The foreign resi- 

23 



dence gave this opportunity, and aroused in him 
a sense of powers which thenceforth he de- 
lighted to exercise. He did not overestimate 
these powers, but he felt that what poetry is in 
a man ought to come out, for his own benefit and 
for that of his fellows; and he always enjoyed 
especially that wholesome interchange of social 
verses which is unexpectedly frequent among 
business and professional men in this our sup- 
posedly ^'dollar-minded" commercial life. 

During the years which followed the return 
from Germany, a steadily growing business did 
not prevent numerous lectures, on art and 
music, on religious topics, frequent patriotic 
addresses, and the recitals of song and poetry 
for which he had unceasing calls. Only a man 
of great physique and unquenchable energy 
could have answered to such demands, as he an- 
swered, throughout his life. He was known to 
audiences far and near, and at home and abroad 
he was constantly in call for entertainment or 
instruction. Of course he enjoyed it, but it was 
diversion in which no ordinary man could in- 
dulge, making constant requisition upon 
strength and ability. 

In 1893 Mr. Griggs removed with his family 
from Beatrice to Lincoln which was thenceforth 
his home. He had accepted a position as attor- 
ney for the Burlington railroad, and the re- 
mainder of his life he held this employment, 
carrying along with it a considerable general 
practice. In handling railroad affairs he made 

24 



a record for Ms division, settling just claims 
fairly and seldom losing in his contests with 
those which he deemed unjust. His power as a 
railway attorney won wide recognition. He 
was called to many states ; and in the latter part 
of his life he spent perhaps the major portion of 
his time in business journeys. And it was on 
one of these that the end came. He left his 
home in the late afternoon, not prime in physi- 
cal feeling, but still vigorous and in the fullness 
of mental power. During an hour's wait for his 
train he dictated passages of the lecture on 
"Force'' which had been developing in his mind. 
He met acquaintances with the usual cheery 
word. Then he took the train for a night trip. 
Shortly after midnight he spoke with the con- 
ductor, seemingly well. But when, a few hours 
later, the porter called him, there was no an- 
swer. He had fallen asleep. This was on the 
morning of Sunday, September 4, 1910. 



IV. 



The externals of a man's life are soon told. 
And after they are told the words seem strange 
and empty. For though the world judges men, 
for the most part, by externals, at the best these 
form but passing commentaries upon men's 
lives. The vitality, the impress of personality, 
that makes a man human and dear to us is not 
to be found in the externals of his life, but in its 
inner and intimate character. 

25 



The inner life of Nathan Kirk Griggs was the 
source of the beauty of his personality. He did 
not wear his heart upon his sleeve, nor did he 
assume any pharisaical reticence. He was sim- 
ple and unostentatious in taste and manners, 
and he took a frank and vigorous delight in the 
society of his fellows. He was always inter- 
ested in his own doings, in the doings of other 
men, and consequently he was always interest- 
ing. In matters of conviction he was uncom- 
promising, but he was full of charity for persons 
who differed from him in belief, even when he 
felt most emphatically that they were wrong; 
and he was never contentious even in his own 
contentious profession. 

In person he was tall, near six feet three 
inches in stature, of a muscular build and erect 
carriage. There was a certain imperiousness in 
his manner, due to his decisive quickness and in 
no small part to the keen and searching glance 
of his black eyes, deep-set under shaggy brows. 
On one occasion a jury officially requested that 
he direct his eyes less sharply upon them: they 
felt in his glance an hypnotic suggestion, preju- 
dicial to decision. As a boy, he was fond of say- 
ing, he had been a "boy's boy" ; and in life he was 
very distinctively a men's man. A musician 
who attended the last services with which he was 
honored, remarked: "What impressed me was 
the style of men who were gathered there, — six- 
footers, tall and broad, with square determined 
jaws and searching eyes, men who command re- 

26 



spect in every inch.'' And it was with such men 
that he was accustomed to deal, on more than 
equal terms. 

And yet this was not the paramount side of 
his character. The paramount side was that 
which made him ever gentle and generous, which 
brought to him the needy and the weak, and won 
for him the love of all who love beauty in life. 
He commanded a considerable income and he 
gave of it freely. Money was never a matter of 
unnecessary conversation with him, nor much 
in his mind. He was a poet, — "as full of music 
as the woods are full of birds," one said of him. 
And it was the poetry in his soul which made it 
bright and winning. 

Apart from songs set to music, he published 
one volume of verse, "Lyrics of the Lariat," 
1893. The book met with a hearty welcome in 
the West, whose spirit it expressed, both for its 
direct, objective style and wholesome open-air 
sentiment. The author did not pretend to fin- 
ished artistry in verse, but he knew how to reach 
the hearts of men in his own land and day, as 
many an enthusiastic press notice and many a 
personal letter still testify. "Like a perfume- 
laden breeze from the limitless reaches of the 
Northwest," Will Aikin wrote, of the book ; and 
Walt Mason: "If he has written nothing that 
places him among the masters, it can also be 
truthfully said that he has written nothing de- 

27 



void of melody, feeling and beauty." Melody, 
feeling and beauty — these are what the spirit 
brings to poetry. 

But it was not alone in poetry that the inner 
nature manifested itself. Among the poems 
themselves, along with many that are gay or 
humorous or tender or picturesque, there are 
many imbued with a fervent spirit of devotion. 
In his mature manhood Mr. Griggs became a 
member of the Church of the Disciples of Christ, 
and at his death he was an elder of the Lincoln 
congregation of this church as well as a trustee 
of their Nebraska college, Cotner University. 
But his religion was never formal and outward, 
nor was it the faith of an untried and unques- 
tioning mind. He was deeply interested in the 
history of Christianity, and in his latter years 
most of the time which he could take from his 
professional duties was devoted to the study of 
religious history. It was as a result of such 
study that the addresses here presented were 
composed. 

In all his work one trait is pre-eminent, a 
buoyant conviction of the loveableness of his 
fellow human beings and a whole-hearted affir- 
mation that the lives men are living are im- 
mortal lives. It was the fundamental appeal of 
Christianity, at once democratic and inspiring, 
that had laid hold on him, heart and mind; so 
that he had made the gospel his own, not verb- 
ally, nor as a matter of word expression, but in 
the life that follows simply and naturally and 

28 



convincingly the teachings of the founder of his 
creed. 

One of his fellow-workers said of him, in 
tribute: "With a heart still young, an intellect 
at its height, and with all the aspirations of a 
high-minded man, he had exhausted his great 
physical inheritance and died like a soldier, with- 
out a halt. He could not exact too much of him- 
self, but was generous to those who lagged from 
any cause, and a multitude today are testifying 
in their hearts to his benefactions." And along 
with this might be placed the remark of one of 
the many who knew him only in the casual way 
of the street, a car conductor with whom he was 
wont to ride : "There's many a man will remem- 
ber his kindly word." 

Yet when all is said the words sound strange 
and empty to those who knew the man and loved 
him. Best, set here at the end a fragment of 
his own prophetic utterance: 

O Thou, my Spirit, O my Soul, 
Dwell thou in love, give love control, 

O thou, my soal; 
O thou, my spirit, O my soul. 
Look thou above, be life thy goal, 

O thou, my soul. 

H. B. A. 



29 



CHRIST IN AMERICA'S LIFE 



Christ In America's Life 



Intolerance is the law common to religious 
world. Bigotry stalks, by choice, in the Avake 
of spiritual zeal. Eight usurps, betimes, the 
place of wrong. The opprest forgets his once 
estate and himself becomes oppressor. 

Religious freedom came first by Constantine. 
Strange, such boon should come by one himself 
full half a heathen. More strange, that one of 
his day should know to decree. What the soul of 
each man counsels him, that let him do. 

Liberty of conscience was ever; liberty of 
worship but twice. Well Christianity reasoned 
it rounded the citizen well. Well also it rea- 
soned this founded the government well. But 
wholly wrong was the ergo it reached that bet- 
terment came by the blending of rule, sacred 
and secular. And this mistake, so basic, 
wrought measureless hurt, alike unto Church 
and State. 

Christianity came from the fagots with spirit 
afire with zeal. It came with belief that its 
birth was of God, that its life was in God, that 
its work was for God. And yearned it, with 

33 



passionate will, for the earth to have part, in 
that birth, that life, that work. So quickly it 
went to the task of leading the world to the 
cross, of wooing the world unto Jesus. 

And long had it suffered by heathendom 
rule. And flaming tongues, encircling mar- 
tyrs, had told that reign should end. At once, 
when freed, believers went forth unto battle. 
They went to conquer the hosts of hate by love. 
And bravely they fought and well. A generation 
done, their cause had triumphed, Christianity, 
the Just, had won. 

Then came, to the Church, a dream of power, 
of worldly power, of dangerous power. Unlike 
unto Christ, it bade the tempter stalk before, not 
step to rear. It also forgot that the kingdom 
of Jesus was not of this world. By evil urged, 
it walked in the ways of the haughty; it toyed 
with the crowns of the kingly; it seized on the 
thrones of the mighty. And then, for the first, 
it willed unto Caesar the things that were 
Caesar's, for it, itself, was Caesar. 

Slowly as ever a python crept, worldliness 
stole through the church. Yet not less sure than 
the march of the years, was the growth of this 
terrible vice. The stride of this curse is shown, 
in part, by the scene, of shame, Canossa. And 
worse and worse grew the hand of rule, with 
time grew dread, at last, as a cobra. For the 
popes, so base, besotted with power, went on and 
on, from deed unto deed, from wrong unto wrong, 
from crime unto crime, demanding world wor- 

34 



ship, cursing kings, robbing princes, deposing 
rulers, annulling Magna Charta, murdering 
Jews, torturing Christians, going, by steps, unto 
infamy's uttermost depths, under the Borgian 
bawd, that lecherous fiend, Alexander the 
Sixth. 

And, during those days of ecclesian rule, that 
epoch of ill, those chiefs, in the guise of caring 
for souls, did acts so mean, so cruel, so pitiless, 
the sports, in the garden of Nero, seem all but 
half kind by compare. And the world then, the 
cultured world, the world which so should have 
smiled in the lovelight of Jesus, was dark with 
doubt, was wild with fright, was fierce with 
hate, hopeless, joyless, all but Christless. 

But still, not Christless yet was the earth. 
Staupitz gave toil and self to the Savior. Tauler 
found Christ in the heart of believer. Zwingli 
said boldly, God only gave pardon. Luther 
hurled inkstand at Devil and Scriptures at 
demons. Calvin cleft error with logic sharp- 
whetted with zeal. Melancthon wrought 
armor for Knights of the Master. Ziska, the 
blind, built fortress, for right, upon Tabor. 
Knox, the hater of lies, stormed Scotland for 
truth. Farel, the Bayard of battles, charged 
the Alps for Jehovah. Tyndale, the victim of 
Henry the Beast, gave the Gospels to England. 
Savonarola, for the Lord, went to death by the 
gibbet. Huss, amid fagots, died singing of 
Jesus. Cranmer held hand to the flames, pray- 
ing Christ to receive him. Latimer and Ridley 

35 



were God's inextinguishable candles. Nay, not 
Christless yet was the earth. More than seven 
thousand, there were, who bowed not the knee 
unto Baal. 

And then was the rising of righteousness. 
From many a source came waters of purity. 
They rose in the fastness of mountains. 
They sprang in the wildness of highlands. They 
raced in the richness of valleys. They swept in 
the broadness of lowlands. They piled by the 
border of billows. The hawkings of pardons but 
wakened the conscience of Teutons. The Medici 
murders but lengthened the Huguenot lines. 
The burnings at Constance but welded Mora- 
vian bands. The horrors in Britain but mar- 
shaled the Pilgrims at Leyden. The lewdness of 
churchmen but added to Puritan fervor. The 
sins of intolerance but led to Theocracy's doom. 
And righteousness then broke barriers down, 
and, moving in power, rushed on to the shores 
now sacred to freedom and God. 

Christianity came with Columbus. He 
planted the cross with the flag of Castile. And 
fierce was the religion that came. For its source 
was intolerant Spain. It had germed in a soil 
long moistened with blood. It had sprung in a 
land forcing faith by the rack. It had grown to 
a cult more remorseless than death. Ill was it 
fit for message of love. 

Nor yet did its character change with clime. 
At once, in the west, was it virile with force, 

36 



was it forceful with wrong. It made of the na- 
tive a captive; of captive an exile; of exile a 
slave. 

It passed to the shores of the Gulf. To the 
north and the west opportunity lay. It marked 
the measureless possible. It gauged the possi- 
ble whole. Heredity called it then; spake it of 
reign; told it of gain. It barkened the word. 
The spell of the past was upon it. The taint of 
a curse set fire to its veins. At once, it com- 
passed its course for power, for infinite power. 

Forth to the wilds it went. Quick unto might 
it climbed. An empire it seized. Then bravely 
it toiled ; fiercely it slaved. The savage it wooed ; 
the savage it fettered. As boon it came; as bane 
it tarried. Then God, in His righteousness, 
touched it. Its sinews shrank. Its wrestling 
was done. Decrepit it lingers today, alive but 
to memory; nerveless, sightless, hopeless, worth- 
less. Yet this of value it taught: It told to 
the world that here was a land unfitted for 
despot, no matter if wearing tiara or crown. 

Then, by the north, Christianity came, came 
breasting the stately St. Lawrence. With desire, 
it rode that river of isles. With design it scanned 
the shores. It came with the thought to win that 
world, win all for self and God. 

And strange was the type of that coming. Of 
blood, it was progeny of Rome; of birth it was 
autocrat of France. Of blood, it had heritage 
of will; of birth, it had plentitude of grace. All 

37 



intense were its hopes for glory. Full devout 
were its words for Jesus. The salt of the earth 
were some, its own; more, were soldiers of for- 
tune. 

Its vessel then safely it moored. It sped to 
the shores with its talisman cross. It raced to 
the forest, with will, for there was the calling of 
conquest, there was the luring of power. It 
gave to the red man greeting. It wooed to the 
peace of the pipe. It sat by the fires of the 
night. It harkened the plaints of the pines. It 
drank of the spell of the wigwam. It grew unto 
spirit of the wilds. 

But little of good did it bring to the savage; 
little of grace did it win to his soul. It changed 
not his haunt, nor his hate, nor his heart. On 
his ways, on his wiles, on his wars, it gave scant 
measure of heed. Chief, to its aim, that he 
lent to its might, chief that he treasured the 
cross of its giving. 

Eeligion such, was well contrived to warrior 
heart. And so, like fires of plains, it quickly 
spread, it widely spread, it wildly spread. The 
whole of western world seemed destined soon to 
know its sway, and glad because that sway. It 
even stayed and turned, as thing of ill, its sis- 
ter cult, then sweeping on, full tide, from south- 
ern main. 

But no ! Not so the fate of Continent. Not so 
God's course of Empire. The Mind, that 
fashions destiny, designed for nobler ends. A 
land, so blessed with promise, was meant for 



cause of truth, not planned for mere diplomacy. 
And yet, if change were not, that cause of needs 
must fail. For cult, that rode that river in, it- 
self had grown full evil. 

And so God's bugle rang. His troopers heard 
and came. In dark of night they scaled to 
frowning heights. And then, on plains of 
Abraham, dread battle waged. And, when the 
end was come, the way was clear for worship, 
brave and simple, in all the western world. 

Yet lives that cult today, lives far away in 
Northland; a thing more kind, more true, more 
chaste, because that day of sorrow. And this of 
good it wrought; it helped to break the heathen 
hold, then left the field for better planting. 

But not, by the Gulfs, Christianity came to 
abide. For it voyaged direct to American 
Coast. In the name of God, Amen. And well for 
the earth was that coming, well for the weal of 
humanity. For it came all aglow, in the Lord's 
good time, all afire with a yearning for service, 
all aflame with a passion for freedom. 

And the place of that coming knew naught of 
restraint. Lawless were the tribes of the forests ; 
fearless the beasts of the woods; careless the 
depths of the wilds. Yet it knew not the spell 
of that presence. It felt not the force of en- 
vironment. Repression its birthright, it was 
fashioned, in brain, to intolerance. And well it 
believed in the dogma of despots, that freedom 
of worship was a God-given right unto those, 
and those only, who agreed with itself. 

39 



And then, in the name of religion, contention 
waged, oppression raged. Heretics were ban- 
ished; atheists pilloried; infidels imprisoned; 
Jews disfranchised; Komanists represt; Bap- 
tists beaten; Moravians arrested; Quakers exe- 
cuted; Presbyterians proscribed. Roger 
Williams, that New World Elijah, fled not, for 
his safety, from Pagan to Cherith, but Chris- 
tian to Pagan. Because Rhode Island gave free- 
dom of worship, admission was denied it to 
New England Confederacy. The whole, in truth, 
was a witches' stew, from which came vapors, 
noisome to man, offensive to God. 

Then Church and State bethought to reason 
why the strife, the why such ill. By backward 
glance, they marked the march of history. They 
saw that wrong was common fate where reigned 
Theocracy. They saw such rule make act of 
worship soulless formalism. They saw it secul- 
arize the Church, not spiritualize the State. 
They saw it set the Christian cause at wars with 
best of earth. They saw it make the English 
Church grow sick to death with sin. They saw 
it drive believing France to war with all 
religion. 

They looked about with thoughts of home. 
They saw, through tears, full growth, of wrong, 
as fruitage of their blended service. For then, 
repression waxed; religion waned; faith failed; 
God's house was lonely. But still, from many a 
heart, sweet prayer was rising, prayer for cause 
of conscience. And beetling clouds were slowly 

40 



piling, while came therefrom a sullen roar fore- 
warning all the world of coming storm for free- 
dom. 

Then tempest charged. Mad was its power; 
wild its passion. Its course was marked by 
blood of war; its wake by wreakage of oppres- 
sion. And fierce it stirred the Church and 
State, dread it tried them. Yet came to each, 
from out that awful stress, profoundest wis- 
dom, divinest wisdom. Each saw, as not before, 
that force led not to duty; that fear led not to 
service. Each felt, as not before, its gift to walk 
alone, God's will it walked alone. Each felt, as 
not before, that blended rule was worldly, meanly 
worldly, no matter though it seemed, of guise, 
supremely godly. Then each took oath of loyalty 
the one to God, the one to Man ; while both made 
vow to go, and hand in hand, the narrow way of 
righteousness. 

And when the storm was past, a morning sun 
beheld a morning land, a land aglow with 
promise and with happiness, a land afire with 
purpose and with destiny. And then, for sec- 
ond time, was worship surely free, or might the 
voice wing votive high to speak the will of con- 
science. 

God fashions history. The records of the past 
disclose Him. His handiwork is seen in all. 
Rulers and peoples are his chessmen. If pawns 
or rooks, or queens or kings, they move across 
the board at Master mil. Alike, though know- 
ing not, they buttress ends divine. 

41 



To reveal a faith, lived Abram; to upbuild a 
nation, Moses; to restore a worship, Cyrus; to 
diffuse a language, Alexander; to prepare the 
world for Christ, all. To preserve religion, came 
Jews; to release bondsman, Persian; to exalt 
reason, Greek; to enthrone justice, Roman; to 
conserve the world for Christ, all. 

This nation was born unto purpose. Its 
course was compassed for destiny. Its mission 
was founding of liberty, liberty the truest, the 
purest, the noblest, yet given to earth. And the 
stress, of its years, was means unto growth; for 
trial is parent to wisdom, sorrow the way to 
perfection. 

Little cared Jew for Jehovah, when carried a 
captive to Babylon. But there, as he bent unto 
toil, his harp on the willows, his feet on the 
winepress of bondage, his heart in the land of 
his fathers, the worship of pagans grew ever 
more hateful, the gods of the pagans grew 
spirits accurst. Thenceforth was his Lord 
alone the Almighty, the One who had smitten 
the horse and the rider, the One who had thun- 
dered from Sinai's heights. 

So, profit arose from America's woes. Those 
years, so tense, were formative only. They fed 
unto growth; they grounded a character. They 
led unto strength; they rounded a character. 
Each tug at the rope meant brawn. Each strain 
of the sail meant course. Each surge in the 
heart meant soul. By very repression, came 
hate of repression. And, over that ocean of 

42 



error, the power of God was moving. Deep, in 
that vortex of tumult, the spirit of justice was 
forming. And, out of that maelstrom of pas- 
sion, the vision of freedom was rising. Then, at 
the last, stood forth a Republic, a Republic the 
truest, the purest, the noblest, yet given to 
earth. Ay, stood forth a Republic, so strong it 
dared to be kind; so brave it dared to do right; 
so wise it dared to decree, What the soul of each 
man counsels him, that let him do. 

The Golden Rule is creed of Christ. It lives 
the heart of all His teachings. And not to earth 
came other word so wise, so strange. It speaks 
of duty, not reward. It sends to kindly act, no 
thought of self. It even spurs to goodly deed as 
recompense for wrong. This creed, in whole, is 
law of love, is law divine to sweetest service. 

Not such Confucian rule. For sage of China 
knew no godly wisdom. His words, in truth, 
were even less than worldly wise. His adage 
was, do not, not do. His rule had tinge of fear, 
took note of self, inspired inaction. He caught 
no glimpse of Christly thought, for queried he, 
// good he meed for wrong, then what shall he 
reioard for good. He had no care for grief; 
no smile for care; no love for smile; 
no God for love. Of all his nation's ill, 
he ranks supreme, his stoic spell, of long ago, 
yet chilling, cramping, crushing, cursing. 
By him, the world but backward looks, but stag- 
nate is; by Christ, it looks ahead, turns face to 

43 



God, and marches on, in love, to conquest and to 
final triumph. 

This land is Christian. Its story is imbound 
with Christ. His word inspired its founding. 
It took, for creed, His Golden Kule. It traced 
upon each lintel. What ye would that man 
should do to yoUy do even so to him. That legend 
speaks its will, defines its course, de- 
notes its destiny. And in those three, that 
will, that course, that destiny, is whole of proof 
of Franklin's word, God governs in the affairs 
of man. 

And, by force of that rule alone, this Nation 
sprang and grew and dared and won; this Na- 
tion lives and loves and cheers and rules. And, 
through that force, that giant force, this Nation 
still shall be guide to the earth; be star unto 
hope; be light at the manger of Liberty. 

And that rule of love, of good in advance, of 
helping unsought, of doing unpaid, is the key 
to America's thought, the power begetful of ac- 
tion. For that rule has motived the Nation, has 
edged the Nation's desires. That rule, in whole, 
is the spirit of God, is right in epitome, is Christ 
in Americans life; in a word, Christianity. And 
these, in part, are its deeds : 

It has loved kindness. It has guarded the 
wildwood nest; pleaded for the life of the bird; 
brightened the eyes of the cur; rested the ox of 
the market; halted the wearying horse; thun- 
dered in the ear of the brutal. Brutality here 
shall end. 

44 



It has loved the marriage vow. It has sealed 
it at altar of troth; prayed it as lasting as life; 
held it the stay of the State; claimed it the 
blessing of earth; mourned it when knowing it 
rent ; argued with man, bowed unto God, for the 
end of the curse of divorce. 

It has loved the fireside. It has made the 
father more thoughtful, more helpful, more 
kind; the mother more patient, more tender, 
more sweet. It has whispered the son, of truth, 
of justice, of honor; the daughter, of home, of 
duty, of service. It has filled the heart, it has 
lit the soul, with a holy and radiant joy. 

It has loved mercy. It has taken the babe to 
its bosom; gathered the waifs from the byways; 
offered a hand to the fallen; builded the home 
of the friendless; lightened the lot of the aged; 
hastened to haunts of the fevers; hurried in 
wake of the battles; furnished a bed to the 
dying; succored the lands of the smitten; 
proved an angel of mercy, God's angel of mercy, 
to the uttermost ends of the earth. 

It has hated injustice. It has frowned on the 
ways of the rude, frowned on the ways of the 
strong. It has stood as the foeman of greed, 
stood as the foeman of wrong. It has counseled 
for fairness to heathen, though knowing of 
heathendom hate. It has caused the return unto 
China, wondering China, of millions of Boxer in- 
demnity. It has forced the full payment for 
booty of war, though the owner, the Spaniard, 
had forfeited all. 

45 



It has hated slavery. It had taught the beauty 
of freedom. It had written this thought, with 
blood, in America's charter of liberty. It had 
vowed, in its heart, this blessing was birthright 
of all. It had sworn, by itself, this birthright 
forever should be. Yet strained were its words, 
and idle and vain; for many were shackled, 
many were slaves. It urged by its vow ; it drove 
by its oath. Then struggle for freedom came on. 

Hearts were in passion, souls were in dread ; 
Homes were forsaken, prayers were unsaid ; 
Great were the leaders, grand were the led ; 
Wild were the battles, piled were the dead. 

Then came the end. When, lo, though shattered 
were hopes, and bleeding were hearts, and 
empty were sleeves, the Nation arose unto new- 
ness of life, fullborn unto freedom, the Joy of 
the earth, the Anointed of God. 

It has hated intemperance. It saw it destroy 
brawn, debase brain; ensnare mind, enslave 
will; inspire grief, invent pain; invoke want, 
invite shame; inflame thought, incite lust; con- 
trive hate, conserve crime ; despise faith, despoil 
hope; assail worth, assault truth; defile youth, 
debauch age; defy earth, deny God. It saw the 
monster entrenched in saloon. It said, in its 
wrath, that stronghold must go. It rushed to 
attack. It forced the fight. The end appears 
looms clear unto sight. That end is victory, vic- 
tory for right. Already the saloon has gone 
from a half of America's soil. And, even this 

46 



hour, the armies of Christ are singing Te 
Deums, in a fullness of joy of their ultimate 
triumph. 

It has loved America. It sent to her shores the 
noblest; brought to her aid the wisest; won to 
her cause the bravest; gave to her care the fair- 
est. It fashioned her form in wisdom; rounded 
her lines to beauty; strengthened her holds for 
service; compassed her course for freedom. It 
moulded her being; bent unto infant in cradle; 
sung unto children of mercy; brought unto 
father his duty; showed unto mother her glory; 
taught unto leader of service; pointed the Na- 
tion to God. 

It has loved humanity. It has winged afar 
its brotherly creed. For this, Europe knows 
little of thrall. The gates of Japan swing in- 
ward. Russia grants favor of Duma. China 
arouses from stupor. Tyranny topples in 
Persia. Turkey throws sop unto freedom. 
There came a cry: 

Come mourn with the Cuban Isle, 
That vale by the wolves infest, 
Where demons tread o'er graveless dead. 
With jeer and jest; 

And mourn with the lonely winds. 
That sob when the heart is sore, 
And seem to know the cup of woe, 
Is running o'er. 

47 



Come pray for the Cuban Isle, 
That waste by the crimes of years, 
So richly fed by carnage dread, 
So wet with tears; 

And pray that the dawn of hope, 
May break on the Isle Opprest, 
And joy awing make welkin ring. 
With music blest. 

Christianity harkened that cry ; then called. To 
Arms. The Nation obeyed. The strife done, the 
wolves were gone, the carnage was past. And 
hope's sun, that beautiful sun, shone full upon 
Cuban Isle; while joy, the joy of tyranny ended, 
filled all the Isle with song. Ay, Christianity, 
America's Golden Rule, has loved the whole of 
humanity ; has wrought for the weal of the earth ; 
has changed the world. 

And Christianity still shall live. It was not 
born of earth. It came from God. Its years are 
God's. No doubts may bar its way. No sneers 
may end its sway. Its strength is love divine. 
Its love is strength supreme. It moves, and 
creeds are ground to powder. It frowns, and 
dogma holds its silence. It smiles, and all, in 
love, are brethren. And not before, since Cal- 
vary's shame, were Christian thoughts and wills 
so bent, as now, in quest for Christian good, in 
zest for Christian service. 

But the Master's cause has much to do, much 

48 



to dare, much to win. Triumpli it must, triumph 
it will, since right is might, since Christ is God. 
And yet, for this, the earth must toil with earth ; 
and man must strive with man; and soul must 
plead with soul. So, unto each, the order goes, 
as it went to the one of the cloud. Thrust in thy 
sickle and reap; for the time is come for thee to 
reap; for the harvest of the earth is ripe. And, 
here and now, out from the heavenly portal, 
down through the infinite silence, there comes a 
cry, a militant cry : 



Ho, all of ye hosts, who love the Lord, 
Give heed to the earth with glad accord. 
For banner of Christ is wide unfurled. 
With heavenly folds to shield the world; 
And many a waste, where ills but grow, 
And many a vale, where tears but flow. 
And many a steep, where worn but climb. 
Would joyfully learn its sway sublime; 
Then rally in might, to march today. 
For surely the Lord will lead the way; 
And so, hey ho! ye hosts, hey ho! 
The banner of Christ must onward go. 

Ho, all of ye hosts, of faith so strong. 
Go willingly forth, with notes of song. 
Proclaiming the word of hope and cheer, 
No matter though woes or foes be near; 
For whither be care, ye well should see, 
And whither be want, ye there should be, 

49 



And whither be pain, ye well should know, 
And whither be grief, ye there should go; 
Then weary ye not till work be done, 
For will ye but serve, the world is won; 
And so, hey ho! ye hosts, hey ho! 
The banner of Christ must onward go. 

Ho, all of ye hosts, with Christ to reign, 
Awaken and wing a winsome strain, 
Confiding in Him, who rules the earth, 
Whose glory began when time had birth; 
And many in gloom, in lands afar. 
Are waiting for Him, with hearts ajar, 
And isles of the seas, in depths of night. 
Are waiting for Him to lead to light ; 
Then tarry ye not, but speed ye on, 
For message ye bear shall bring the dawn; 
And so, hey ho ! ye hosts, hey ho ! 
The banner of Christ must onward go. 



6» 



BIBLE LITERATURE 



Bible Literature 



CLASSES OF LITERATURE. 

It was De Quincy, the poppy dreamer, who 
divided literature into classes of knowledge and 
power, — of knowledge, as of cookery, and ilk 
of its class, and helpful alone unto physical 
self; of power, — as of poetry and dreamings 
akindred, and helpful alone unto spiritual life. 
And, of these, not all the might of the former 
may lift the feet from the earth; while, by the 
spell of the other, the fancy may flit unto limits 
of space, and even brush wing upon throne of 
Creator. 

LITERATURE IN WHOLE. 

Literature then, in full, includes, of course, 
all writings of a permanent and universal char- 
acter, whether of poetry, romance, history, 
biography, or any and all of the styles of 
thought rounded to permanent form. But, in a 
narrower sense, as doubtless also in a truer one, 
it may be said, as affirmed by John Morley, the 
English orator, to consist alone of all the books 

53 



where moral truth and human passion are 
touched with a certain largeness, sanity and at- 
traction of form. 

But, regardless of the scope of the term, if 
widened so as to embrace even the folk lores 
of primitive peoples, or circumscribed so as to 
include but the profoundest reaches of the 
flights of genius, the Bible, as mere literature 
contains them all. Doubtless the versatile Scott 
had in mind its sacred phase alone, when, as the 
death dews gathered, he replied to the query as 
to the book he desired, that There is hut one 
Book. And yet his judgment would have been 
equally just, had he based it upon consideration 
wholly aside from its religious teachings. For, 
in contrast with other writings, the Bible 
towers above them all, like unto Andean height 
over Chilean beach. 

NATURE INDESCRIBABLE. 

Were task assigned to one to portray the 
wonders of earth, he would come from his labor 
amazed and dazed. For, no matter his will nor 
his skill, his work, at the best, no more might 
be than the merest of hint of the limitless whole. 
He might, indeed, have gone to the ocean's brink 
and sung of the billowy scene; but, beyond his 
vision were myriad waves by him untold and 
undreamed. He might have toiled to the 
mighty depths of the Colorado's awesome 
canyon; but, to him, no thought, by chance, had 
come to declare its immeasurable grandeur. 

54 



He might have stood on pyramid height and 
whispered some word of Sahara; but the secrets 
of the sands of that silent sea were still un- 
voiced and unvoiceable. He might have list, 
affright and hushed, at the mouth of an angry 
volcano; but he had failed to gather a tone or a 
threat of the maniac monster beneath him. He 
might have climbed from vale unto crag, and 
from crag unto peak, till the earth had faded 
before him; but his voice had hushed in his 
throat when he sought to describe the unspeak- 
able vision beheld. And then, portrayal had 
ceased, his task undone, nor even begun. 

BIBLE INDESCRIBABLE. 

And so, not by one, nor indeed by all, can the 
labor be compassed of unfolding the richness of 
literary worth imbound in the Book of Books. 
It is, in truth, an Aladdin's palace to all of the 
lovers of the golden in letters and the precious 
in thought. And though the theme of the critic, 
for ages, not once has suggestion been heard de- 
claring it less than the acme of art, and this 
though, by chance, the critic was also a cynic. 

Nor yet does it matter the phase of the 
thought involved; it still is the best, it only is 
perfect. And while it is true its writings, in 
the main, are of style of De Quincy's literature 
of power; it yet contains, in its hygeian laws 
of Moses, the choicest of the class of knowledge 
as well. 

55 



LOSS BY TRANSLATION. 

And that so much of its rhythm and richness 
has been garnered into speech of the stranger, 
is matter of wonder, of marvel. For the trans- 
ference, from language to language, even if 
skillfully done, leaves something of grace and 
of diction behind. A thought, once rounded to 
form, is rarely so fair if fashioned to different 
setting. And the want of a tone in a word, or 
the miss of a pulse in a phrase, or the lack of a 
swing in a line, may change the masterpiece 
flashings, of genius, into seeming creations of 
dullard. Thus, Mahomet's Koran, though 
stupid or worse, in the type of the modern, is as 
glad, in its Arabic guise, unto soldier of Islam, 
as the voice of his Allah might be. 

BIBLE TRANSLATION. 

But the Bible, though the football of wars and 
of years, though the plaything of creeds and of 
cults, though an outcast from its orient home, 
still remains, despite all its blows and its woes 
and its mars and its scars, a marvel of grand- 
eur, outvying the rest of the writings of time. 
Moreover, not even an Addison, honored as he 
was, because of his style, with a royal bed, with 
the kingly dead, in the stately and storied old 
Abbey, was equal to the task of changing, to 
worthier form, a couplet from the Sacred Writ. 
Indeed, his setting, 

56 



The spacious firmament on Mgh, 
With all its blue ethereal sky, 
And spangled banners, a shining frame, 
Their Great Original proclaim, 

is labored and stilted beside the simple, yet ma- 
jestic original. 

The heavens declare the glory of God, 
And the firmament sheweth his handiwork. 

CREATION STORY. 

View, first, the creation story, uncaring if 
fact or if fiction. Mark its opening, In the he- 
ginning. Certainly no other story ever was 
launched so happily, so uniquely. Self-assert- 
ive, and if as of right, it antedates epochs and 
ages and cycles and aeons. It outranks them 
all. Let thought riot, as it cares, with the past 
of time, yet here, by a word, God is placed at 
the yondermost end of Eternity. 

And then follow the tale a bare half sentence 
farther, and, lo, The earth was without form, 
and void; and darkness was upon the face of 
the deep. How terse, how full, how serene. A 
word thereto would jar like jest in the midst of 
prayer. Reverence it commands by dignity. 
Belief it all but compels by restraint. 

Stop, then, a little farther on and listen: 
Let there he light and there was light. How 
artless this, artless as a cherub's prattle. YeL 
how splendid this, splendid as the boon it 

57 



stories. Cavil, perchance, may dare to deny it 
of God; but mortal dares not to asert it as less 
than the godly. 

BIRTH OF A WORLD. 

Go on, then, to close of that week. Ponder 
that story of the birth of a world. Mark the 
days of creation go by. How wondrous that 
narrative. By compare, all else, of the ancient 
and modern, is tame. It tells no haste, no toil, 
no care. The brain, that told the pen, was lost 
to self. The tale reveals no trace of author. 
The air as much is personal. The portrayal 
moves, as marched the scene, with simple tread. 
The Day gave way to Mght, the Night to Day, 
as children might take turns at play. The eve 
and morn linked loving hands about the earth. 
The land arose from ocean depths and smiled. 
The soil shot up its wealth of green, its beauty 
gems, its fruitage rare. The stars each took ap- 
pointed place, to bide for aye. The sun stept 
forth to guard the Day, the moon to grace the 
Night. The seas and lands became the haunts 
of life. And then came man, the last, the brain, 
the soul, the God endowed, to rule the wondrous 
All. And, lo, Creator, then, as half with pride, 
declared the whole was good, was very good. 

NO GOOD WITHOUT ILL. 

Mark, next, another touch of art, a master 
touch, and, wanting which, the scene was scarce 
complete. The monarch one had come with 

58 



mental traits of God. Creative mind had right 
to choose, and so, as well, had man. And yet, 
were good alone at hand, no gift of choice could 
be. And hence the artist saw, if God or man, 
the needs of ill on earth to ends of choice. And, 
too, he saw that man would be, if ill he might not 
choose, but mere a putty thing in hands of fata 
Nor could he then be even good, for this he 
might not be without the gift of will, the gift 
of choice. And so, within the universe of fruit- 
age and of flowers that graced his Eden, there 
was alas, in truth there had to be, at least one 
thing forbidden him, to take of which was ill. 
And, tempted thus, he had the gift, if so he 
willed, to yet be wholly good. 

NAMING OF LIFE. 

Mark, too, another touch of art, which, 
though of minor note, has much of richest 
tracery. The world was then at peace, for man 
was one. The lands were filled with life. To 
order's ends this life should then be named. 
And so, for this, the monarch bade his vassals 
there. And, then, what cortege came! Ele- 
phants and behemoths and camels and lions and 
tigers and leopards and the multiplied thou- 
sands of beasts then roaming, at will, the moun- 
tains and valleys. Never, in the realms of 
fancy, has aught, so unique, been seen. True, 
portrayal of grotesque has been. But the scone, 

59 



at hand, was not the grotesque, but alone the 
natural, for hate and death were yet stranger to 
earth. 

CHALDEE CREATION STORY. 

How worthy this story in contrast with that 
of the Chaldee, of equal antiquity, or even with 
the wisdom of the Greek, of a thousand or more 
years later. For instance, the former, though 
based on nature's convulsions in aeons agone, 
and filled with the weirdest of fancies, is not 
alone idle, but has actually naught to commend 
it save age. This the plot : 

Thiamat, goddess of Chaos, is flaming below. 
The gods, in universe corners, cower in fear. At 
council of heavenly pantheon, Marduk elects to 
destroy the dread monster. The battle tJiat 
wages finds ultimate end in Thiamat's deaih, 
through breath of the deity blown in her mouth. 
Her body, split lengthwise in twain, is placed, 
one half as firmament above, one half as the 
world below. 

GREEK MYTHS. 

Again, the myths of the Greek, even as late as 
the age of Socrates and Plato, seem now but the 
phantoms of brains disordered. In truth, so 
ludicrous they are, reason is tempted to doubt 
that intelligence ever believed them. For even a 
child, of today, would glance askance, if told 
that the waters of earth had come from the 

60 



mouth of a frog; or that a goddess bore herbage 
to underworld spot, each fall, to restore it when 
spring was returned. 

BIBLICAL BEAUTY. 

To compare, then, the beautiful biblical story 
with these, would little be short of blasphemy. 
More, to compare it with any of the writings, of 
time, would be infinitely less than just. For, like 
unto Saul, its kingly head looms high above the 
throng. Besides, no other work has plot so bold, 
has fact so terse, has sweep so grand. In short, 
divine is the lone one word of the language, de- 
claring, in full, its worth. 

CHARACTER LITERATURE. 

Again, as character literature, the Bible is 
easily first. True, the story it tells is solely 
Hebraic, save only as needs there were to wan- 
der aside to gather life lines of God's faithful. 
Yet, that its scope is narrowed thus, brings none 
of regret. For a people, great as the Jews, and 
strong as their writings, were justly the ones 
for portrayal to the weal of oncoming ages. Fol- 
low, then, the historical narrative farther, with 
thought alone to the literary setting, nor caring 
if fable or fact. 

BEGINNING OF FAITH. 

The artist, if God or man, had need for stem 
whereon to grow of faith. And well he chose a 
place for growth so godly. Had land of Nile 

61 



been one selected, the seas and sands would 
much have cramped the spread. But, with 
Chaldea named, the sweep might northward go, 
unvexed, or westward-ho till stayed by wilds or 
waves. Besides, at Ur, was stream that flowed 
where once alone was good. And so, at Ur, was 
fitting ground for newer growth of good. 

ABRAM. 

So Abram stept to view from pagan dark. 
Whence came his faith, from soul or ark, no 
part of art to tell. Enough that faith was there. 
And thus he seemed: Large brained; strong 
willed; great souled; almost divine. Yet artist 
limned another side as well. He sketched him 
weak, so weak he claimed his wife a sister. He 
sketched him mean, so mean he sent his boy and 
Hagar forth with but a jug of water. Yet this, in 
main, the one as told, this, when grown to 
Abraham : 

ABRAHAM. 

To Lot he said, when trouble brewed because 
of flocks. Let there he no strife I pray thee. If 
thou wilt take the left hand then I will go to the 
right; or if thou depart to the right hand, then] 
I will go to the left. 

He so was gentle ; and such are ever friends of 
God. And only once, in all of time, was Golden 
Rule the better shown. 

When angels told the fate of Sodom and 

62 



Gomorrah, he longed and craved, with aching 
heart, to save the wicked city. And such a plea 
he made; more filled with tears than mother's 
prayer for dying babe. So fierce, so tense, the 
cry he gave for stay of fire, the angels all but 
yielded all. 

He so was loyal; and such are ever strong 
with God. And only once, for guilty man, was 
made a nobler plea. 

He had a son in whom was all his life, his 
hope. The artist knew that love makes duty 
light betimes; betimes impossible. A test was 
here desired. So came decree to offer up that 
son. No protest then, no wild appeal; no wail 
for mercy. To yonder hill they went, the sire, 
the son. Both to duty, both to doom. The one 
lay bound. The blade was lifted high. When, 
lo, the hand was stayed. Another sacrifice was 
there. 

He so was trustful; and such are ever God's 
elect. And only once, upon that height, was 
braver deed at duty's call. 

If literature is art, this is literature. If art 
is more than literature, this still is art, ex- 
quisite art. 

ABRAHAM, A DEMIGOD. 

But Abraham was not the real source of Jew- 
ish race. He gave no caste to after kith or Clan. 
And though by him was faith, through him re- 
nown, from him was neither mental flesh nor 

63 



moral bone. And yet a giant force was lie, a 
sainted form to live in sacred story, a demigod 
to whom to offer homage. And long as syna- 
gogue shall stand, or tent shall dot the desert, 
so long shall faithful sing his fame, and Arab 
voice his glory. 

ISAAC, A POEM. 

And Isaac was, to Jew, not blood, but poem. 
As told, he seems a bit of classic art. Most rare 
the tracings of the canvas. He was a gentle 
soul. No iron coursed his veins. No storied 
deeds he compassed. He wandered not from 
rooftree. He loved the guiding hand. He went 
as sacrifice at bidding, not for duty. He might 
have had him many wives; such the times. Yet 
one sufficed, for one could rule. She took and 
held the guiding reins. He was content; he 
cared it so. And then his lot was joy; his life 
an idyl. No story else is found, so sweet, till 
Euth. His eyes at last grew clouded; per- 
chance by tears for Jacob , Kebekah's comely 
Jacob. Isaac himself, is literature, bewitching, 
if fact; beautiful if fiction. 

JACOB, THE GREAT. 

But Jacob was the all in all of Jewish life. 
He stamped himself, for aye, upon his race. Of 
all the worthy sires of time, he ranks the great- 
est. Of all who chiseled character, he carved 
the deepest. Of all the Nation builders, he 

64 



built the strongest. So proud Ms name, not 
once, for full a thousand years, did other think 
to bear it. 

GREATNESS DIES. 

Greatness boasts not long heredity. The 
knight of logic rarely takes a father's place at 
tourney. And greatness leaves no rich estate. 
The kings of thought, but rarely gain, by blood 
entail, a heritage of brain. The grief of Mira- 
beau was keen because he could not will his 
mind to servant. When Caesar died, died 
Caesar line. The Corsican left nothing, save of 
clay, to Dauphin son. The elder Pitt left young- 
er Pitt, then was the end. The elder Pliny left 
younger Pliny, and then that pagan line was 
done. Where live today, Mahomet's gifts, or 
those of Luther, or of Shakespeare, or of Bacon, 
or of Dante, or of Milton, or of Newton, or of 
Goethe, or of Schiller; or, in short, of any of 
the giants famed of old? Perhaps with God; 
not with man. 

JACOB LIVES. 

But Jacob lives. His blood flows on, serenely 
on. In fields of life, his racers yet win countless 
prizes. Ten thousand homes, today, boast prat- 
tling ones, and each his mental type. And ever 
since his bones were borne from plains of Gos- 
hen, the meed or praise was justly his each 
time a Jew has stept to fame. 

65 



THE SUPPLANTER. 

And master tale it is so told of Jacob. Nor- 
matters here if fact or false. Indeed, if false, 
this none detracts. Nay, to hold it so, but 
makes the story stranger. For nowhere else is 
found so weird a fiction. So call it fancy. 

His name, Bupplanter, itself is art. It shows 
the parents' vision. It tells how well they saw 
adown the years. And then the gift of hirth- 
right its boon, its priceless boon! Whence came 
to earth the thought? To this the author deigns 
no answer. And silence here is cunning touch 
of art. And, too, the gift of blessing, its spell, 
its magic spell ! How came the word of Isaac the 
very will of God? Again, the author deigns no 
answer. And here, as there, the silence is, of 
ait, most cunning touch. 

REBEKAH. 

As mother will, Rebekah soon perceived the 
traits of twins she bore. She saw the one, of 
right the chief, was fit alone for sheik. She saw 
the one, of right bereft, was will-endowed to 
rule. And so, in scorn of fate, perchance with 
sneer, she whispered Jacob. And then he knew 
it all, devined it all. He felt him wronged; he 
knew his need. He also saw his brother roam 
the hills, unwhipt of care, unmindful all of 
power. And then his heart grew mad with lust 
for blessing, not from God, from Isaac. 

66 



THE BIRTHRIGHT. 

A lad, ahungered, returned from quest of 
game. He long had gleaned the wilds, and so 
was well awearied. He begged, as huntsmen 
may of right, the simple boon of food, a boon of 
grace his due without so much the asking. And 
then Rebekah's son, her thoughtful son, recalled 
that whispered counsel. And so he drove a bar- 
gain sharp, yet mean, not giving pottage prayed 
till brother gave, as pay therefor, the gift of 
birth, that godly right, that thing of strangest 
worth. Simple Esau! Subtle Jacob! Where 
else, in art, was villian part the better played? 

LAW OF ILL? 

By law of ill, each wrong demands a mate. 
And so the deed unjust, of sin against a brother, 
required, as partner of its ilk, another act the 
no less wanton. Again a mother wrought. She 
dressed her loving son in skins of goats and sent 
him in to win, by fraud, the gift of godly bless- 



THE BLESSING. 

And then what splendid p^.ay of art! Per- 
chance, at door and breathless, the dark-eyed, 
the daring, Rebekah stood. In mock of truth, 
yet fiercely earnest, the fearful Jacob knelt. The 
hands of blessing are outstretched. And then, 
as half in doubt, the father pauses. His lips 

67 



withhold the message. The scene is tense as 
tragedy may know. A moment's pause, and 
stolen skins have served to rob poor Esau of 
his right, nor him alone, but all his kith of 
Arab hosts. Where, where besides, has author 
sketched such splendid villainy? 

THE FLIGHT. 

And then the drama changes. The youth, en- 
riched by spoil of birthright and of blessing, 
now knows despair. His brother, inspired by 
hate, makes threat to kill. His conscience 
aroused from sleep, glares fiercely at him. His 
very soul is now aghast. Again a mother coun- 
sels; again the son obeys. As willed by her, he 
hastes beyond the Jordan, with speed of wolf 
when chased by dogs. And there, with head 
to rock, he ventures sleep; with face to sky, he 
dares to dream. This the vision told: 

THE DREAM. 

The upper and the nether worlds were linked 
by ladder, linked as one. The angels came and 
went at tvt.11. Above was bliss, below was bliss. 
For heavens and earth alike were realms of 
God. And then, beyond the wondrous whole, a 
Mighty Form stept forth and spake him thus: 
I am the Lord God of Abraham, thy father, and 
the God of Isaac; the land whereon thou liest, to 
thee will I give it, and to thy seed. What splen- 
did vision! Not yet has art portrayed a nobler 
scene. 

68 



NEED OF DREAM. 

And much that dream was needed. The youth 
was wild with dread. He felt himself accurst of 
God. He knew himself accurst of brother. The 
only love he thought to claim, in all his little 
world, was that of her who shared his shame. 
And so a word of solace then was sweeter far 
than honey and the honeycomb. Indeed, with- 
out it, the blessing of his later years might well 
have never been. And hence that dream, if but 
a gift of art, is yet a sketch of birth of soul. 

YAHWEH. 

Again, the skies were then, by common 
thought, abodes of countless deities. Of these, 
each place claimed one its own. Egypt had its 
Ra; Babylon its Marduk; Assyria its Asur; 
Canaan its Baal; Moab its Chemosh; Edom its 
Hadad; Erch its Isthtar; Haran its Sin; Ur its 
Anu; Rome its Jupiter; Greece its Zeus. And 
so the Jew had One, his Yahweh. Nor had he 
thought another dared to claim Him. He 
doubtless held to other gods as well, with his 
first. For when, on heights of Sin or Sinai, the 
law was told, his Yahweh said. Thou shalt have 
no other gods before me, not no other gods at 
all. Besides, when Miriam's song went up by 
sea, the query winged not simply was, Who is 
like to thee, Lord? but who, among the Gods, 
is like to thee? 

69 



BEYOND THE JORDAN. 

Beyond the Jordan was, to Jacob, stranger 
land. By fliglit, he fancied he had left his Yah- 
weh yonder. He well believed some deity was 
near, but not his own. And so, in soul, he was 
in double sense bereft, of friends, of God. How 
splendid then, the matchelss touch by which 
perspective widened. The open skies, the pass- 
ing hosts, the migthy Voice, all told of Jewish 
Yahweh, denoting too, a way to God from every 
spot on earth. And Jacob quick perceived it all, 
divined the plan divine. And then, by faith, 
his course was fixed to lead him safe to Israel. 

PILGHEIIMAGE OF JACOB. 

And every step, from ladder's end to end in 
olden Goshen, was marked by growth of soul of 
Jacob. His troth and truth to Rachel, his toil 
and love for Rachel, make story quaint as 
sheik may tell. The blending of his life with 
Leah, lonely Leah, was deed of wrong like that 
by which he gained the blessing. His feats of 
brain, to foil the schemes of Laban, denote the 
man of genius, declare the man of destiny. 

GROWTH OF JACOB. 

But story scales its topmost height yet later 
on. Through strange and stirring scenes had 
Jacob come. Polygamy had plagued and cursed 
his life. For years had Laban lived to rob him. 

70 



Each way he turned some newer care had 
sprung and scowled. The suns had scorched his 
face to Arab hue. His hands were swart as 
hands of swarthy Esau. And still, despite it 
all, he grew in brain, he spread in soul, he 
waxed in wealth. The blasts that blew laid not 
the giant low, but made him clutch the stronger 
hold. 

THE RETURN. 

Twenty years had passed. The time was then 
for journey home of Jacob. By stealth he 
hastened forth, with kith and flocks, pursued, 
in turn, by Laban. A truce arranged between 
them, new trouble stood before him; a danger 
dark and dire. For there was warlike Esau. 

BATTLE OF THE NIGHT. 

The night came on. The world was hushed. 
Jacob was alone. Then sins arose before him, 
and fear made soul alert, forced memory back. 
The wrongs, by him to Esau, appeared as grin- 
ning wraiths. He heard them whet their teeth 
for vengeance. His soul was chilled with hor- 
ror. He fled, as once before, or so it seemed, like 
driven wolf. 

And then again he saw that vision. He heard 
again that Voice Almighty. He looked the way 
he came, and lo, what blessing thfre. And then 
he knew his Yahweh's word was sure. His 
heart grew soft ; his soul grew sweet. His heart 

71 



and soul were filled with penitence. He battled 
fiercely, all the night, for mastery of self. 
Though tired and worn, though wounded sore, 
he would not yield, he could not yield. 

ISRAEL, THE PRINCE OP GOD. 

And when the morn was come, the Angel of 
the Lord, the Messenger of Mercy, to him had 
granted blessing, the blessed boon of pardon. 
And walked he then no more in pride, but crip- 
pled, in the faith by Love's humility. The Sup- 
planter then was gone; and in his stead stood 
Israel, the Prince of God. 

Within the range of literature, no other tale 
is found, more strange, more wonderful. 

ISRAEL'S BLESSING. 

And Jacob's blessing, to his sons, is Arabic 
poem, Arabic rhapsody. And how, as patriarch 
spake, he must have recalled the hour, when, 
with fur-concealed hands and impious lips he 
wrung from father the blessing, the birthright 
of brother. Yet, this aside, no setting of art 
could surely excel that vision as told by the dy- 
ing. Indeed, so aptly it pictures the traits of the 
sons, as subsequent days revealed them, the 
critics have even surmised the drawing w^as labor 
of one long after the patriarch passed. But here, 
not fact, but form concerns. Enough to 
present thought, the poem has place in the 
Bible. This, in brief, its measure of the sons : 

72 



NAPHTALl: 

He is a Mnd let loose. He givc.th goodly 
words. 

ASHER : 

His bread shall be fat, and lie shall yield 
royal dainties. 

GAD: 
A troop shall overcome him ; but he shall over- 
come at the last. 

ZEBULIN: 

He shall dwell at the haven of the sea; and 
he shall be for an haven of ships. 

BENJAMIN : 

He shall raven as a wolf. In the morning he 
shall devour the prey, and at night he shall 
divide the spoil. 

DAN: 

He shall be a serpent, by the way, an adder in 
the path, that biteth the horse heels, so that 
his rider shall fall backwards. 

REUBEN : 

Thou art my might, the beginning of my 
strength, the excellency of dignity, the excel- 
lency of power. Unstable as the water, thou 
Shalt not excel. 

SIMEON and LEVI: 

O my soul, come not now into their secrets. 

73 



Unto their assembly, mine honor, be not thou, 
united. Cursed be their anger, for it was 
fierce, and their wrath, for it was cruel. 

ISSACHEE : 

He is a strong ass, couched down between two 
burdens. And he saw that rest was good, and 
the land that it was pleasant. And he bowed 
down his shoulder to bear, and become a ser- 
vant unto tribute. 

JOSEPH : 

He is a fruitful bough, a fruitful bough by a 
well, whose branches run over the well. The 
archers have sorely grieved him, and shot at 
him and hated him. But his bow abode in 
strength, and the arms of his hands were 
made strong by the hands of the mighty God 
of Jacob. 

JUDAH : 

He is a lion's whelp; he stooped down, he 
crouched as a lion, as an old lion; who shall 
rouse him up? The scepter shall not depart 
from him, nor a lawgiver from between his feet, 
until Shiloh come. And unto him shall the 
gatherings of the people be, binding his foal 
unto the vine, and his ass's colt unto the 
choice vine. He washed his garments in wine, 
and his clothes in the blood of grapes; his 
eyes shall be red with wine, and his teeth 
white with milk. 

74 



THE POET A SEER. 

The poet is the seer of earth. He only has 
poetic ecstacy. So here, this dithyramb of 
when events, to be, were told, in ages done, the 
message, by some law divine, has breathed 
poetic ecstacy. So here, this dithyramb of 
Israel, so voiceful of the future, has rarest 
touch of beauty, is filled with richest harmonies. 

MOSES. 

Then Moses rose to view. As seen, he looms 
the largest of the earth, save One. His way, 
from Nile to Nebo, was wonder-planned. From 
birth, he seemed the protected of God. Indeed, his 
mother, Jochebed, was first to bear, in part, the 
name of Yahweh. The child, so story runs, was 
graced with winsome beauty. The parents, in 
dread of cruel edict, consigned their babe to 
wave and rush. Found by royal daughter, he 
gained a palace home. And then, by happy 
chance, the fondling had, for nurse, his mother, 
to teach him of his people and his God. All this, 
if touch of romance, betrays most gifted author. 

EGYPT LORE. 

And there, in the lands of the Pharaohs, all 
knowledge was to him an open book. The let- 
ters of the earth he conned. The secrets of the 
fanes he learned. The religions of the world he 
gauged. The deities of the skies he measured. 

75 



The intrigues of the courts he fathomed. The 
mystery of rule he reasoned. The mastery of 
war he compassed. Wonderful training! And 
all, too, to the end that leader might know to 
establish a people in wisdom. Never before was 
hero so brained, never a hero so trained. 

SOUL GROWTH. 

But the rich, ripe fruitage. 
Of the world's best toil. 
Grows seldom in the courts or marts 

For the germs that quicken. 

In that thin, hot soil. 
Come seldom unto God's full hearts. 

SCHOOL OF THE DESERT. 

So, self-exiled, the hero hastes unto Arabic 
wastes. And there, to him, came lore profound, 
more wise than the wisdom of Egypt. For 
then he learned from the book of experience. He 
tasted of cares. He wandered the desert. He 
tended the flocks. He battled with beasts. He 
tented with Jethro. He climbed unto Sinai's 
altars. He drank of the waters of Marah. He 
dared the bolts of the tempests. He learned the 
speech of the thunders. And, wholly unknow- 
ing of growth, he was coming, each day, more 
near to the stature of might demanded by the 
plans of Yahweh. And so, by the end of two- 
thirds of his life, he was souled unto Israel's 
ransom, souled unto Man of God. 

76 



THE BURNING BUSH. 

He led his flock to desert's yonder side, to 
Horeb^s foot. Then way he stayed, for strange, 
a Bush was burning, nor yet consumed. With 
soul adread, he gazed. When, lo, by tongues of 
flame came word, the word of Yahweh. His feet 
he bared, for place whereon he stood was holy 
ground. And then, with more than awe, he 
list the voice that bade him down to Egypt. He 
queried name of Him who gave command. Then 
answer came, / Am^ That I Am. He sought to 
shun the task. He told his little will, his sim- 
ple skill. He urged his speech as poor, his 
strength as mean. His rod became a serpent; 
the serpent became a rod. His hand declared 
him leper; it then again was clean. No plead- 
ing worked avail. For then the Word of God 
was All, as still is All. 

What portraiture supreme! How every 
thought seems coined to wise effect! His very 
want of speech is godly touch. For, given 
honeyed words, the deeds, in Egypt done, would 
tinge of mortal gift, not speak of spell divine. 
What pen of fancy ever else wrought half so 
well? 

BEFORE PHARAOH. 

The Man of God, with prophet, Aaron, 
prayed pompous Pharaoh for Israel's release. A 
wonder of the twain was asked. Then prophet's 
rod became a serpent; and so each rod of Magi. 

77 



And then the prophet's rod had swallowed rods 
of Magi. But bondsmen yet were bondsmen. 

And Man of God again so prayed. Then 
prophet's rod was stretched above the streams 
and pools of Egypt; and so were rods of Magi. 
The waters all were turned to fetid blood. The 
fish were dead and stank. And all of Egypt 
thirsted. But bondsmen yet were bondsmen. 

And Man of God again so prayed. Then 
prophet's hand across the waters reached; and 
so did hands of Magi. Then frogs came forth, 
in slimy hordes, till Egypt lands were filled 
therewith. And then, for tyrant plea, the plague 
was stayed. But bondsmen yet were bondsmen. 

And then the Man of God bade Aaron smite 
the earth. The rod of prophet fell, and lice 
came forth. The very dust became but vermin. 
And Magi sought to conjure lice and failed. 
And so, affright, they whispered. This is the act 
of God. But bondsmen yet were bondsmen. 

And then the Man of God again so prayed; 
this time with threat. Then flies came on, to 
grieve the land, a teeming brood, a noisome 
swarm. And tyrant begged for stay of ill, Tsath 
word to grant the prayer. The flies were 
winged away, afar. But bondsmen yet were 
bondsmen. 

And Man of God again so prayed; once again 
with threat. But tyrant gave no heed; no word 
he spake. His sense, by pride, was dulled. Then 
died, upon the morrow, the flocks and birds of 

78 



Egypt, died they all, save those alone of Israel. 
But bondsmen yet were bondsmen. 

And then the Man of God stood in face of 
Pharaoh. And there he cast the furnace ash 
straight up to face of heaven. It touched all 
Egypt. And where it fell came blains and boils 
to man and beast. And still, to Israel, it 
worked no ill. But bondsmen yet were bonds- 
men. 

And Man of God again so prayed; this time 
with angry threat. Then hailstones charged. 
Lightnings raced the earth. Fields were thresh- 
ing floors. Goshen plain alone was glad, for 
sake of Israel. Then doom was stayed, to tyrant 
plea. But bondsmen yet were bondsmen. 

And Man of God again so prayed; this time 
with direful threat. Then locusts came in 
clouds. The earth was filled with countless, 
living curses. What hail had left was now de- 
voured. And then, for tyrant plea, the pests 
were swept to sea. But bondsmen yet were 
bondsmen. 

And Man of God again stretched forth his 
hand. Then darkness fell; black darkness. 
None, save Israel, had light. Then tyrant bade 
the man of God to see his face no more; or, do- 
ing which, that day he died. And man of God 
declared it well. But bondsmen yet were bonds- 
men. 

And Man of God had said. Blood-stained 
were posts and lintels. Israel was hushed. 
Midnight comes. Death's Angel strides the 

79 



land. Each door, unstained, he swings. Each 
place, unmarked, he enters. Horror stalks. 
Despot shrieks for mercy. And bondsmen now 
are freemen. 

COMPARE OF MARVELS. 

The shelves are filled with works of marvels. 
Homer surfeits with his pantheon of Gods, His 
heroes pass until the eye awearies with behold- 
ing. Aladdin's lamp and ring invoke, in turn, 
grim forms of empty nothingness. His phan- 
toms live to thought because but airy fancies. 
Yet who, in all the earth, accepts as fact, a word 
of Homer or Aladdin? 

And still, the Bible story, though telling 
deeds as strangely strange, is well believed by 
countless hosts. Indeed, upon its tales, the 
people, greatest known to time, have founded 
whole of faith, have held to rites, as sacred for 
centuries on centuries. Besides, these tales, 
though motived lone for fact, not form, have 
grace of rarest diction. For, while more artless 
far than Aesop's Fables, no other work, if fact 
or fancy, may claim such matchless style, may 
boast such charmful majesty. 

BEFORE THE SEA. 

And Man of God then stood before the sea. 
Behind were hosts of Egypt. Thus far the Lord 
had gone before him, in pillar of cloud, by day, 
to lead him the way; and, in pillar of fire, by 

80 



night, to give Mm the light. For him there was 
no place of refuge but farther on. He stretched 
his hand above the sea; and, lo, the waters 
cleaved. And way appeared, through billowy 
deep, for crossing over. 

ROAD OF GOD. 

What wonderful scene! On either hand the 
waves were piled like restful dunes of sands. 
The sea itself looked joy, by silvery glance, to 
give such goodly crossing. The cloud went back 
to rear, and there, with face of fire, made bright 
that road of God, while cloak of gloom it 
stretched to blind the coming foe. 

CROSSING. 

The mighty throngs of Israel then marched 
across the sea. And moved they, too, with 
quiet tread, nor haste, nor crowding. For knew 
they then no coward fear; their God His way 
was guarding. And so, with hearts of exulta- 
tion, they reached the shore of safety, the dreary 
waste of Sin. 

INSOLENCE. 

And then comes scene of tragedy, a grewsome 
act. The Lord of Egypt reasoned not of will of 
God. And so, in insolence of brain, he pressed 
across the sea. That way he thronged with 
troops, with steeds, with chariots, with pomp 
and panoply of war. He saw his quarry just 
ahead. He felt him sure of feast of blood. 

81 



VENGEANCE. 

But, lo, the Man of God reached out his hand ; 
and waters saw. The dunes were dunes no long- 
er. They leaped from either side to seize that 
Eoad of God. They laughed, they roared, they 
shrieked, in very pride of might. They wound 
their steely grasp about each throat below, then 
went to rest and left it so. 

SONG OF MIRIAM. 

And then the Man of God, and all the hosts 
of Israel, sang Miriam's song of Triumph, the 
eldest chant of time. And so, in part, they 
sung: 

I will sing unto the Lord, for he hath triumphed 
gloriously. The horse and his rider hath he thrown 
into the sea. The Lord is my strength and song, 
and he is become my salvation ; He is my God, and 
I will prepare him an habitation; my father's G-od, 
and I will exalt him. Thy right hand, Lord, is 
become glorious in power. Thy right hand, Lord, 
hath dashed to pieces the enemy. With the blast 
of thy nostrils the waters were gathered together; 
the floods stood upright as a peak; and the depths 
were congealed in the heart of the sea. The enemy 
said, I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide 
the spoil. My lust shall be satisfied upon them. I 
will draw my sword; my hand shall destroy them. 
Thou didst blow with thy wind; the sea covered 
them ; they sank as lead in the mighty waters. Thou, 
in thy mercy, hath led forth the people which thou 
hast redeemed. Thou has guided them in thy 

82 



stren^h unto thy holy habitation. The Lord shall 
mgn for ever and ever. 

THE TRAGEDY. 

All this is literature, stupendous literature. 
And, too, the scene of which it tells, is tragedy, 
tremendous tragedy. Perchance, upon some 
godly height, an angel throng beheld that awe- 
some play below. And there, from proudest box 
Yahweh, gave shouts when evil perished, gave 
voice to swell the triumph song of Miriam. Aye, 
this is literature, stupendous literature. 

AT SINAI 

The people came to foot of Sinai to meet their 
God. But none laid hand upon the mount, for 
death lurked there. Above the height profound, 
the lightnings glanced, the thunders roared. 
Around the topmost peak, a cloak of cloud was 
wound, from whence came voice of trumpet. The 
Lord, in fire, descended; and quaking mount be- 
came concealed as if by smoke of furnace. Then 
trumpet voice rang yet more long, and waxed 
and waxed the louder. And Man of God then 
called to One on high and answer came: Come. 

FACE TO FACE. 

And clouds abode on Sinai. And the glory of 
the Lord thereon was like devouring fire. And 
Man of God stood face to face with God and 
talked with God. And slabs of stone were given 

83 



him whereon ten words were traced, by hand 
Supreme, for guidance of the Jew, for teaching 
unto earth. And lo, when he was come again 
below, his face was bright with God's own light. 

POWER. 

What splendid story this: What wondrous 
reach of power! Of more than mortal might it 
tells. With more than monarch march it moves. 
And so, compared with other works, when faced 
by other master words, it seems to rise, like 
ocean's swelling tide, complacently, resistlessly, 
tremendously, engulfing and submerging all. 

GENroS OF POETRY. 

Poetic grace lies most between the lines. The 
said is minor part; the hint the major. The line 
that calls the tear, gives glimpse of grief un- 
sung. The bud in olden book, woos back some 
fragrant June. Concealment is alone the way 
of God's revealment. And so, the touch, por- 
traying end of Moses, is alone of mystery, hence 
of art. A word, no more, and Man of God is 
gone. 

MOSES ON NEBO. 

He went to Nebo's storied height. 

The guest of God, 
Nor need had he for more of might, 

Nor need of rod; 

84 



He scaled, unawed, the stately crest, 

With Host to be. 
He viewed, with joy, the land of rest. 

Before the sea. 

He sat in state, with Holy One, 

The honored Guest, 
And quaffed the cup of duty done. 

The cup the best; 
And angels stood on either hand, 

To voice his fame. 
And song awoke of seraph band. 

To swell acclaim. 

And then, afar, he saw the throng, 

His soul athrill. 
The people led by him so long. 

At Yahweh's will; 
He saw them in the vale below, 

Though eyes adim. 
And knew, to them, he could not go. 

But they to him. 

And lofty Host then swung the door. 

Upon the night. 
And bade him bide, forevermore, 

Within the light; 
And so, above, he tarries still, 

Nor stay shall end. 
And with his Host may talk at will, 

As friend to friend. 

85 



Yet once, again, he came to earth, 

With glory crowned. 
The splendors of Almighty Worth, 

Above, around; 
And came he then, the honored one, 

From Holy Place, 
To speak with Yahweh's only Son, 

And face to face. 



CHRIST OF THE FOUR 



Christ of the Four 



THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE. 

Thought is parent to language; yet parent 
and child are one. Thought is cause, language 
effect; yet, for the first to exist, the latter must 
be. Thought ventures not into chamber of in- 
telligence save with language, its coequal and 
with it coexistent. 

No wonders of thought are evolved, save 
language assist in their forming. No beauties 
of thought are revealed, save language draw 
back the dense curtain. No fathoms of thought 
are measured, save language cast line for the 
sounding. No fabrics of thought are woven, 
save language ply shuttle at weaving. In short, 
the duty and labor, and beauty and glory, of 
thought and of language are one. And in them 
and by them alone may reason commune with 
her children and wisdom bring blessing to earth. 

Thought was with God in the beginning, for 

God is mind. Language also was there, for God 

and His word are one. Together they wrought 

when time was decreed. For God's will to be 

89 



known to man, God's Word must come to earth. 
And that such Word in fact came, not alone was 
declared by John the Divine, but will be gain- 
said by none, if the story be true that Jesus 
arose from the grave. 

DREAM OF IMMORTALITY. 

A dream is a butterfly from chrysalis of fact. 
Without the cocoon of reality, no gossamer 
fancy would flit in the world of mind. Immor- 
tality is the dream of earth. It is, with man, 
the one thought in common. Wherever human 
brain and heart are, there it is also. If cares 
burden the soul, it lifts the load. If griefs harry 
the heart, it halts the pursuers. If woes ply the 
rod, it hastens with healing. It holds, to the 
lips of the aged, a draught from the fountain of 
youth. It bends, to the bed of the dying, and 
whispers of life everlasting. It stills the sound 
of funeral clod, by heavenly strain of hope. 

This dream, therefore, cannot w^ell be but a 
mirage of hope. For if so, man is greater than 
God, as he has then conceived of a beneficence 
beyond omnipotent power to grant. And, be- 
hind the dream, there must be something of 
fact, else here effect exists minus cause. But as 
law, not chance, controls in all, reason is led to 
conclude that sometime, probably on creative 
morn, the Infinite spoke to finite ear the word 
giving birth to that race-wide dream. However, 
universal as it is, beautiful as it is, helpful as it 

90 



is, it is but a dream, with nothing behind it, 
proper to designate as proof, unless the story be 
true that the Divine Man, Jesus, actually, after 
death, entered into life again, life eternal, and 
so transformed the dream into prophetic har- 
binger of man's assured immortality. 

DESIGN IN NATURE. 

Nature acts by design. No world has been 
framed without an orbit to bound it. No eye 
has been formed without the light to flood it. No 
hand has been wrought without a use to employ 
it. No bird has been winged without the air to 
bear it. No field has been gemmed without some 
life to enjoy it. No fish has been finned without 
the water to buoy it. 

The leaf is hung to branch to catch the kiss 
of sun and rain and breeze, so to electrify the 
veins of parent tree. The bloom has raiment 
bright and nectar sweet whereby to woo, to her 
nuptial chamber, the pollen bearing bee. The 
lonely cactus is armed with spears, fierce and 
dread, else would that outlaw queen of the 
desert long since have ceased her reign. The 
hapless rabbit has sight keen, ear quick, and 
limb fieet, to give it chance to elude the foe. The 
horrid serpent is swift or venomed that it may 
wage its fight of fate against the rest of earth. 

In short, nature ever applies her boundless 
energies to the task of producing fitness, of 
creating like for like. Throughout her whole do- 

91 



main, the adaptation of means to ends is her 
changeless law of action. As, on the mimic stage 
of art, each accessory is placed for purposed use 
ere curtain falls, so, in nature's splendid, yet 
tragic, arena, the myriadic parts, making up the 
whole of the ceaseless play, are set and designed 
for definite end, though most it is the eye of 
viewer fails to observe this wonderful truth. 

MIND. 

Of all creation, the human mind is chief. The 
cycles and eternities of earth, prior to man's 
coming, were but preparation period for mind's 
advent. The years and ages, since that coming, 
have been but growth time for mind's maturing. 
Mind is nature's capstone, nature's glory. Many, 
indeed, exalt it to the rank of the supreme God- 
ship. 

And who, in truth, may ascribe to it just 
measure of majesty? It may outfoot the 
coursers of the sky; may outwing the lances of 
the sun; may cast plummet-line into the nether- 
most depths of space; may roll back aeons and 
usher in the fire-mist of unborn worlds; may at- 
tend at the funeral of time to view the black- 
ened corpse of the universe; may all but wrest 
from nature's grasp the hidden secret of life's 
beginning; and may, in spirit obeisant or de- 
fiant, approach Omnipotent Throne, whereon 
sits the Father and Creator of all. Ah, who may 
measure the gifts of this, the acme of nature's 
wonders. 

92 



And is this marvel, then, to pass as flits the 
foolish thought of childhood slumber? Surely 
the Power, which adapts means to ends, even 
from birth of worlds to creating of serpents, 
cannot have produced the prodigy of mind, with 
all its limitless forces and illimitable longings, 
with lone design to let it die. It cannot be but 
that, for cause so giant, nature designed the 
whole of eternity as necessary effect. By 
reason's logic, there must be life yon side the 
grave, mind yon side of death, else has nature 
set aside her own law of design, and this, too, 
as to the one of her creations wherein a mighti- 
est purpose is most discerned. 

And yet, behind this conclusion of reason, 
there is naught of real, to be reckoned as proof, 
unless it be that the Man, Jesus, stepped forth 
to view, beyond death, possessing still all the 
mentality His prior to the terrible day of Gol- 
gotha. 

DREAM AND DESIGN NOT PROOF. 

As will be seen, then, the dream of immortal- 
ity is not actual proof of the reality of a life to 
be. It is, at most, but a hope, begotten per- 
chance by Divine word spoken to human race at 
dawn of time. But, to establish the fact of a 
second life, proof, aside from dream or hope, 
must be introduced into the court of reason, 
else will the fact, of existence beyond, remain in 
the realm of the undemonstrable, probably true, 
perchance false. 

93 



Farther, as will be seen, the mere fact, as to 
all the rest of her manifold creations, nature 
shows unvarying design, a constant adaptation 
of means to ends, does not of itself prove that, 
as to mind, she had purpose other than to let it 
perish. True, it does not accord with the logic 
of reason that she would so violate her own 
fixed law of design. Nor does it accord with the 
logic of reason that she would, or even could, 
make the tremendous effort, necessary to the 
creation of human intellect, not alone to no val- 
uable purpose, but to worse than useless end, be- 
cause, granting human life to cease at death, ex- 
istence here is bane, not boon. 

Still, all these considerations, forceful as they 
are, fall far short of demonstrating, as a reality, 
the fact of an existence beyond; and, if resting 
upon them alone for proof, eternity, to man, 
must remain a beautiful dream, an inspiring 
hope. 

DEMONSTRATION OF IMMORTALITY 

So, as the fact of immortality may not be 
shown, either by the argument of man's desire 
or nature's design, the mind, in its quest for 
truth, reverts to the last of possible word, the 
record of the rising of Jesus. And, conceding 
this tale to be fact, the world's dream is not 
without cause, neither has nature made mock of 
her laws. For, granting death conquered that 
once, granting the Christ of the Four to be faiit, 

94 



there is a world beyond this world, a life beyoud 
this life, and the One of the Cross is the guide 
thereto, the Christ of the Gospels the light 
thereof. But, if that record be false, no witness 
may say that the measureless crime has not been 
done of forcing humanity here, full-hearted 
with hope, with the end of it all but death in a 
day, death everlasting, death with the brute. 

STORY OF THE FOUR. 

The historic books, the sacred Four, alone de- 
clare, yet speak, in full, the historic Man of 
Grief. And, so strange they are, so wondrous 
the One they portray, they demand, unto faith, 
full measure of proof that they came from the 
authors ascribed them. Yet more, they must 
come, for belief, from the touchstone of truth, 
showing neither of baseness nor blemish. To 
the testimoy then, asserting this, attention will 
here be directed. 

ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPTS LOST. 

At the very threshold of this discussion, it is 
but fair to admit, for such is the fact, that no 
original manuscript of either of the gospels is 
now extant; nor, indeed, any copy of either, 
antedating the year A. D. 325. And it is not at 
all certain that a copy, even thus ancient, ex- 
ists today, although it seems possible, and, in- 
deed, quite probable, that the manuscript, found 

95 



by Tischendorf, in the Sinaiatic Convent, should 
have been one of the fifty made at Constantine^s 
order. 

And, that the originals disappeared, as also 
the earlier copies, will scarcely excite wonder, 
when the fact is recalled of the persecutions of 
the church, lasting nearly three centuries; in 
the last of which the satanic decree was made 
commanding the destruction of all the churches 
of the Christians, as well as the burning of all 
their Sacred Scriptures. 

Yet, while admitting the loss of those precious 
records to be the greatest of earth, let it not be 
thought that it is here conceded that the Roman 
Rulers, in their insane rage against the church, 
were able to take from the world the story of 
Jesus or His Divine Words, for both have sur- 
vived alike the hate and the torch of the pagan. 

THE CANON EXISTING A. D. 180 

However, it would be of no evidential value 
here to trace regressively, step by step, the Gos- 
pel history from the days of Constantine to the 
year A. D. 180. For it is now conceded, even by 
the most contentious of Christ's foes, that, by 
the date last named, the Four Gospels were pre- 
cisely in the form as now existing. In fact, Baur 
and Strauss, the keenest of the infidelic scoffers, 
concede them to have been extant, in their pres- 
ent form, by the year A. D. 150, Renan admit- 
ting them even as early as the latter part of the 

96 



first century. Farther, not only is this univer- 
sally admitted, but the concession includes the 
existence of the whole of the New Testament 
Canon as well. 

EARLY LITERATURE. 

Happily the literature, of the early days of 
our era, has been preserved, unquestioned either 
as to its antiquity or authenticity. And happily, 
too, that literature, as if by divine design, is 
fairly aglow with sparkles flashed originally by 
apostolic pens. So filled are those early writings, 
with quotations from the New Testament, that, 
were the Gospel narratives themselves entirely 
lost, the life and teachings of Jesus would yet 
be known, and this, too, in all original detail 
save alone as to the mere matter of the order of 
the first setting. In fact, it has been affirmed 
by eminent historic authority, nor the state- 
ment questioned, that the whole of the New Tes- 
tament, with the exception of less than a dozen 
verses, can be culled from the literature of the 
first three centuries of this era. 

Therefore, as will be evident, the proof, show- 
ing the correctness of the commonly ascribed 
authorship of the Gospels, is far from meager. 
Indeed, with so much of testimony at hand, to 
draw upon, the most permissible here, is to sum- 
marize briefly from the pages of those days ; and 
yet, at the same time, to enter into such eviden- 
tial detail as will be ample to establish the fact 

97 



that the Gospels, as now extant, are indeed as 
written by the sainted authors to whom they 
have so long been severally ascribed. This, then, 
will be the duty here first attempted. 

GOSPEL QUOTATIONS. 

In the summary, to follow, no note will be 
taken of apostolic quotations post-dating A. D. 
250. For, owing to the wide-spread of Christ^s 
cause, by the latter half of the third century, no 
less than 60,000 New Testament manuscripts, as 
it is now estimated, were then in the possession 
of the church. And it was chieflly owing to the 
vast volume of such literature then extant, that 
Diocletian, though spurred on by Satanic hate 
and backed by all the forces of an empire, could 
not entirely expurgate Christ's life and words 
from the world's memory. 

Summarizing then, and in regressive order 
as nearly as may be, the following gives the 
number of New Testament quotations found in 
the writings of Christian authors prior to about 
the middle of the third century : 

ORIGEN, of Alexandria, born A. D. 185, 
makes 5,745 quotations from the whole Canon, 
of which 2,971 are from the four Gospels. 

CLEMENT, of Alexandria, born A. D. 153, 
makes 389 in all, 180 of same from Gospels. 

98 



TERTULLIAN, of Carthage, born A. D. 150, 
makes 1,802 in all, mentioning also New Testa- 
ment and Gospels. 

IRENAEUS, of Smyrna, the great author, 
born A. D. 115, gives 767 in all. 

JUSTIN, Martyr, of Neapolis, the learned, 
born A. D. 89, gives 125. 

POLYCARP, of Smyrna, personal friend of St. 
John, born about A. D. 65, gives 40. 

IGNATIUS, of Antioch, the lion-hearted 
Bishop, born about A. D. 37, has 19. 

CLEMENT, of Rome, contemporary of Sts. 
Peter and Paul, born about the time of cruci- 
fixion, has 31. 

BARNABAS, probably companion of Paul, 
possibly the Levite of Cyprus, has 24. 

SUMMARY OF QUOTATIONS. 

In short, from the writings of those nine, no 
less than 8,942 New Testament quotations may 
be gleaned. Moreover, there is so much of in- 
cidental reference in their works, showing the 
existence then of the Canon of today, as to make 
it impossible to place it in summary form, or, in- 
deed, even to point it out. Farther, as the quota- 
tions mentioned, from Origen, are but from four 
of his books, the remaining 36 having been lost, 
it is more than probable that the entire Scrip- 

99 



tures, both old and new, would have been found 
in Ms writings alone, bad all been preserved. As 
it is, his works still extant, furnish fully two- 
thirds of the whole New Testament text. 

REFERENCES TO GOSPELS. 

Besides the quotations above, this of reference 
exists, in the writings of others of the Christian 
authors, showing the early existence of the Gos- 
pel story : 

HIPPOLYTUS, of Portus, born about A. D. 
160, quotes from all but three of the New Testa- 
ment books. 

APOLLINAKIS, of Phrygia, born in the early 
part of the second century, quotes John, as to 
blood and water coming from the side of Jesus, 
refers to Matthew, and specifically mentions the 
Gospels. 

THEOPHILUS, of Antioch, born A. D. 115, 
quotes from Matthew and Luke, duly accredits 
to John, In the beginning was the Word and the 
Word was with God, gives excerpts from the 
Epistles of Paul, and, in addition, himself wrote 
a work called the Harmony of the Gospels. 

ATHENAGOEAS, of Athens, born about 
same date as last, quotes from Matthew, Luke 
and Komans, refers to John, and besides, wrote 
two works, one bearing the significant title, A 
Mission about Christians, the other the still 
more significant one, The Resurrection. 

100 



TATIAN, of Syria, disciple of Justin Mar- 
tyr, born about the first of the second century, 
quotes from Matthew and John, repeats In the 
beginning was the Wordy and in addition, wrote 
a work called the Diatessaron, meaning. The 
Gospel of Jesus Christ hy the Four Evangelists. 

HEGESIPPUS, next to Luke the first Chris- 
tian historian, born early as the very beginning 
of the second century, in speaking with refer- 
ence to claimed Christian heretics, said that If 
there were any at all that attempted to subvert 
the sound doctrine of the saving gospel, they 
were skulking in dark retreats. 

ARISTIDES, a philospher of Athens, born 
latter part of first century, in his Apology to 
the Emperor Hadrian, written about A. D. 125, 
not only gives a synopsis of Christian doctrine, 
including the Divinity, Virgin-Birth, Resurrec- 
tion, and Ascension of Jesus, but asserts that all 
is taught in the Gospel, where men can read it 
themselves. 

JUSTIN MARTYR, mentioned above, born 
about A. D. 89, gathered his materials for his 
splendid Apologies to Antoninus Pius, and his 
learned Dialogue with Trypho, the Jew, from 
a collection, referred to by him as the Memoirs, 
Composed by the Apostles, which are called 
Gospels. 

PAPIAS, of Phrygia, born about A. D. 70 to 
75, besides declaring Matthew to have put the 

101 



oracles together, in the Hebrew language, and 
Mark to have written down all he could remem- 
ber of what Peter told him, himself wrote a work 
on the Gospels, entitled. Exposition of the 
Oracles of the Lord. 

QUADRATUS, writing at a very early date, 
and quoted in the history of Eusebius, not only 
affirmed the miracles and the resurrection of 
Jesus, but asserted that some of those, on whom 
the miracles had been performed, were yet liv- 
ing when he wrote. 

REFERENCES BY AUTHORS UNKNOWN 

Again, the following Christian writings, with 
authorship unknown, give persuasive proofs af- 
firming the Canon. 

MURATORIAN FRAGMENT, early as A. D. 
160 to 170, lists the Gospels in their common 
order, and arranged also, in like order, all but 
four of the remaining books of the New Testa- 
ment. 

ITALIA VERSION, early as A. D. 150, 
forms the basis of the Vulgate, or Common Ver- 
sion of today. 

SYRIAC VERSION, also as early as A. D. 
150, contains the whole of the New Testament 
except Revelations and four of the minor 
Epistles. 

APOCRYPHAL GOSPEL OF ST. PETER, 
not later than A. D. 140, recounts all that por- 

102 



tion of the Christ stay beginning with Pilate's 
washing his hands and ending with the return 
of the disciples to Galilee after the resurrection. 

LETTEK TO DIOGNETUS, written about 
A. D. 117, shows full knowledge of the Gospels 
and also of the Epistles of Paul. 

SHEPHERD OF HERMAS, written as early 
as the very beginning of the second century, has 
23 quotations from the New Testament. 

THE DIDACHE, or TEACHING, of date 
from A. D. 80 to 100, contains 39 quotations 
from the New Testament, of which 18 are from 
Matthew. 

REFERENCES BY ENEMY. 

Nor yet is this all the evidence at hand estab- 
lishing the accepted authorship of the Gospel 
narratives, for, as shown below, even the most 
extreme, of the early opponents of Christ, have 
inadvertently, and yet as if by divine will, stood 
vouchers for this fact. 

JULIAN, the Apostate, born A. D. 311, ad- 
mits the apparent miracles of Christ, as record- 
ed, and concedes the genuiness of the Gospels, 
as also of others of the books of the New Testa- 
ment. 

HIEROCLES, of Bithynia, a dread persecu- 
tor of the times of Julian, besides granting the 
genuineness of the New Testament generally, 
specifically refers to six of its eight authors. 

103 



POEPHYEY, of Tyre, Christianity's first 
great enemy, born A. D. 233, refers to Matthew, 
Mark, John, Acts, Galatians, in fact shows full 
knowledge of the entire New Testament, never, 
even incidentally, questioning but that each of 
its books was correctly accredited as to author- 
ship. 

CELSUS, the Platonist, in his virulent at- 
tack on Christianity, early as A. D. 167 and pos- 
sibly much earlier, not only admitted the appar- 
ent miracles of Christ, but actually gives eighty 
quotations from the New Testament. 

HEEACLEON, the Gnostic writing about 
A. D. 160, put forth a full commentary on John 
in order to show that the latter was also a Gnos- 
tic. 

PTOLEMY, also Gnostic, writing about A. 
D. 150, gives several quotations from Matthew, 
as also declared of John. The Apostle says that 
all things were made by it^ and that without it 
was not anything made that was made. 

MAECION, another Gnostic, born early in 
the first half of the second century, used the 
Gospel of Luke and the Epistles of Paul. 

VALENTINUS, the great Gnostic, born 
about the beginning of the second century, not 
only shows full familiarity with the New Tes- 
tament, generally speaking, but refers to the 
three synoptic writings and specifically quotes 
from John. 

104 



BASILIDES, the Gnostic, most famed of all, 
born about A. D. 70, wrote a commentary on 
the four Gospels, using them also up to the 
time of his secession from the church; quotes 
John, The True light, which lighteth every 
man that cometh into the world, and My hour is 
not yet come; and gives the earliest testimony 
showing the authenticity of Romans, Ephesians, 
Colossians, 1 Timothy and 1 Peter. 

GOSPELS EARLY EXTANT. 

To quote from a work, non-existant, is of 
course impossible. The Gospels, then, had to 
be prior to the dates of the extracts from them. 
More, they must, when so quoted from, already 
have gained general circulation, for the refer- 
ences to them were by writers scattered, if not 
world-wide, at least culture-wide. To attain to 
such circulation, in those days, required not alone 
years, but actually decades of years, so slow, 
then, the process of book-making. 

As will have been observed, some of the quota- 
tions were themselves made in Apostolic times, 
which fact, of itself, makes necessary the exist- 
ence of the Gospels in those times. Even the 
latest of the quotations instanced, those by 
Origen, were of date too early for false Gospels 
to have gained circulation or credence such as 
to have imposed on him. Moreover, never 
once did Gnostic, or other early enemy of the 
105 



church, even suggest a teaching of Jesus at vari- 
ance with that as found in the New Testament of 
today. 

SPURIOUS GOSPELS IMPOSSIBLE 

Farther, spurious manuscripts could not have 
become current in Apostolic times. Those who 
went to martyrdom, for the truth of the Christ 
story, would not have tolerated such an infamy. 
They would have died, if need be, to have pre- 
vented it. 

Nor has any unbeliever been so reft of reason, 
through hatred of Christianity, as to claim the 
possibility of the coming into use, of spurious 
documents, while an Apostle yet lived. In fact, 
the keenest of the intellects, among infidelic 
writers, have felt impelled to admit that such 
forgeries could not have been passed upon the 
church while those survived who had even been 
told of Christ by Apostolic lips, if not, then of 
course the Gospels, as now extant, are unques- 
tionably genuine, for the period immediately 
following the Apostolic days, is that reaching 
to the second century, the very time when, as all 
admit, the present New Testament text liad 
fixed form. 

Here, then, both periods, the Apostolic and 
the one succeeding it, speak in harmony for the 
authenticity of the Gospels, the first through 
quotations from them found in Hermas and the 
Didache, and in the writings of Ignatius, Clem- 

106 



ent and Barnabas, the last, in like manner, by 
those personally knowing the Apostles, for in- 
stance Quadratus, and especially the aged mar- 
tyr Polycarp, that bosom friend of John the Di- 
vine. 

DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 

The authenticity of the Gospels is farther 
greatly emphasized by the fact that the story, 
as told in the synoptic manuscripts, fits into the 
time prior to the fall of Jerusalem, and into no 
other possible period in the world's history. 

In the day of that dread calamity, so vividly 
foretold in Luke, not only did a nation melt 
away in the hot furnace of Omnipotent wrath, 
but no less than one million, one hundred thou- 
sand human souls passed into eternity amidst 
scenes and horrors revolting beyond belief. 

If that drama, the most awful ever set to 
mortal view, had either already been enacted, or 
was still upon the stage of action, when the Gos- 
pels were written, it is inconceivable that such 
fact should have failed to have left impress in 
those narratives. The absence of such notice or 
apparent effect, forces conclusion that those 
manuscripts either antedated that race tragedy, 
or were penned so long after it occurred that it 
was then but a historic memory. 

GOSPEL OF JOHN. 

True, in the Gospel of John, no hint is given 
that the writer had, from the famed city of the 

107 



Ephesians, beheld the passing of his people. 
Yet, when he wrote, nearly a generation had 
vanished since the fulfillment of prophecy 
against Jew and Jerusalem. Kesultingly, then, 
the world's hatred had cooled, the earth's hys" 
teria vanished, and the Roman, gorged unto 
stupor, was lying like unto monster python, 
awaiting the digesting of prey he had so 
wantonly broken and bolted. 

Besides, the Son of Thunder^ had, under rays 
of Infinite love, ripened unto Seer of Patmos. 
And hence, when his gospel was penned, so long 
had he feasted his eyes upon heavenly glory, his 
vision was wholly untaught to penetrate Pales- 
tine gloom, where had perished the hopes of his 
race. 

GOSPELS GENUINE. 

The times, then, for the w^riting of the three 
synoptic narratives, had to be, and were, pre- 
cisely as the voice of all tradition affirms; that 
is, prior to the destruction of Jerusalem in A. 
D. 70. Indeed, the very language in which they 
are couched, the ingenuous simplicity of their 
setting, and the absolute accuracy of each of 
their statements of historic facts, make it not 
only incredible that they could have been by 
authors other than those personally knowing, to 
the events they describe, but impossible for 
them to have come from times or pens other 
than those of Matthew, Mark and Luke. 

1,08 



THE CATACOMBS. 

Beginning with tlie persecutions under Nero, 
A. D. 64, and continuing on down through those 
under Domitian, Trajan, Hadrian, Aurelius, 
Severus, Maximus, Decius and Diocletian, and 
ending with Constantine's Edict of Toleration, 
A. D. 313, the Catacombs were the only places 
under Roman rule, offering safety to Chris- 
tians. 

Yet in these haunts, so grisly that pagan 
feared to enter them, multitudes of believers 
sought refuge, preferring to surrender alike 
sunlight and society and huddle in the abodes 
of the dead, rather than to yield the hope of im- 
mortality theirs by right of the resurrection of 
their Master. 

Here, also, to escape the lions or worse, 
doubtless came some of the many who had per- 
sonally beheld the risen Lord. At least, even 
if not, those, the earliest there, had abundant 
opportunity to know the full facts, as to the res- 
urrection story, from those who had beheld 
Christ after Golgotha. Indeed, that they would 
gather at all, in such a charnel place, proves, 
beyond all possible gainsaying, the force of the 
motive impelling them, as also the absolute sin- 
cerity of the belief by which they were actuated. 

And here, as the years grew and persecutions 
waxed, came others and still others, an influx 
making it necessary to enlarge those sepulchres, 
from time to time, until, by the date of the 

109 



Edict named, the Catacombs were 60 in number 
with an aggregate length variously estimated at 
from 587 to 900 miles. And here, too, were en- 
tombed, from first to last, no less than from 
four to seven millions of Christian dead, each 
then, and still, the strongest testimonial possi- 
ble of the fact of a belief in the resurrection of 
Christ on the part of those living nearest to His 
day. 

ARGUMENT OF THE CATACOMBS. 

Of course it is not here thought to insist that 
the mere fact, strangely moving as it is, of the 
gathering there of all those millions, estab- 
lishes, to a verity, the truth of the thought dom- 
inating them. What, however is claimed is 
that the walls of those catacombs demonstrate, 
beyond cavil, that those, so early there, though 
coming long prior to the date of any manuscript 
now extant, knew practically of every incident 
and miracle recorded of Christ, precisely as it 
is found in the New Testament today. 

TESTIMONY OF CATACOMBS. 

For instance, these walls, in addition to con- 
firming the thought of a belief in the resurrec- 
tion, show : The wise men adoring the Babe ; the 
Boy disputing in the Temple; John baptizing 
Jesus; the Savior and woman of Samaria; the 
opening of the eyes of the blind; the woman 
touching the hem of the garment; the blessing 

no 



of the children; the sowers scattering seed; the 
carrying of the lost lamb; the shepherd leading 
His flock; the virgins going forth to meet the 
bridegroom; the raising of Lazarus; the enter- 
ing into Jerusalem; Peter denying the Master; 
Christ before Pilate; Pilate washing his hands; 
and the crucifixion. 

In short, the sketchings, in that ancient 
Christian Mausoleum, prove conclusively that 
the Gospel, of the days from Nero to Constan- 
tine, was none other than that as recorded by 
the four Evangelists and still possessed by the 
world. 

CONSTANTINE AND THE GOSPELS. 

When Diocletian made his wicked assault on 
Christianity, A. D. 302, he well perceived that 
the 3,000 gods of heathendom were doomed to 
early fall, to the One crucified, unless the 
churches of Christians were razed to the earth 
and their books fed to the flames. 

Happily, Constantine, then a matured man 
of 31, had beheld all this diabolism. Happily, 
too, he had been reared by a Christian mother 
and hence knew the whole of the history of the 
persecuted church. And more happily still, the 
Roman archives were yet intact, giving ac- 
curate data touching the whole of the Roman 
rule. Resultingly, the brand of Diocletian 
could neither sear from his memory nor erase 
from history the wonderful story of Jesus. 
Ill 



Therefore, on coming himself to the throne, 
A. D. 312, he not only made Christianity the re- 
ligion of his realm, but sought to minimize to 
the utmost, the injury wrought by his ruthless 
predecessor. To this end, he thus shortly wrote 
his friend Eusebius, the great historian : 

CONSTANTINE'S LETTER. 

It happens, through the favoring of God our 
Savior, that great numbers have united themselves 
to the miost holy church in the city which is called 
by thy name. It seems, therefore, highly requisite, 
since that city is rapidly advancing in prosperity 
in all other respects, that the number of churches 
should be ^also increased. Do you, therefore, receive 
with ail readiness my determination on this behalf. 
I have thought it expedient to instruct your Pru- 
dence to order fifty copies of the sacred scriptures, 
the provision and use of which you know to be most 
needful for the instruction of the church, to be 
written on prepared parchment, in a legible man- 
ner and portable form, by transcribers, thoroughly 
practiced in their art. The procurator of the dio- 
cese has also received instructions, by letter from 
our Clemency, to be careful to furnish all things 
necessary for the preparation of such copies; and 
it will be for you to take special care that they be 
completed with as little delay as possible. You have 
authority, also, in virtue of this letter, to use two 
of the public carriages for their conveyance, by 
which arrangement the copies, when fairly written, 
can be most easily forwarded for my personal in- 
spection, and one of the deacons of your church 

112 



may be entrusted with this service, who, on his 
arrival here, shall experience my liberality. God 
preserve you, Brother. 

MANUSCRIPTS BY EUSEBIUS. 

Thus commissioned, Eusebius quickly pre- 
pared the volumes desired, the choicest the art 
of his age could produce, these forming the basis 
of action of the Council of Nice, A. D. 325, one 
of which being, as is now supposed, the identi- 
cal manuscript found, in 1868, in the Convent 
at the foot of Sinai. 

So, taking into consideration the nearness of 
the times of Constantine to those of the 
Apostles, and, in addition, viewing the oppor- 
tunities of that ruler for correct knowledge of 
the contents of the originals, it will be seen that, 
to have imposed an inaccuracy upon him, would 
have been an utter impossibility, even conced- 
ing Diocletian to have succeeded in destroying 
all the manuscripts extant in his day, which, as 
it chanced, he failed to do. 

CONSTANTINE AND EUSEBIUS. 

Farther, Constantine had full means of know- 
ing whether or not Eusebius was asserting the 
truth, when the latter declared, in his history, 
that : 

The fame of the Lord's remarkable resurrection 
being now spread ahroad, according to ancient 

113 



custom, prevailing among the rulers of the nations 
to communicate novel occurrences to the Emperor 
that nothing might escape him, Pontius Pilate 
transmits to Tiberius an account of the circum- 
stanices concerning the resurrection of our Lord 
from the dead, the report of which had spread 
throughout all Palestine. In this account he also 
intimated that he ^ascertained other miracles re- 
specting heaven and, having now risen from the 
dead, he was believed to be a God by the great mass 
of the people. Tiberius referred the matter to the 
Senate, but it is said they rejected the proposition. 

CONSTANTINE AND TERTULLIAN. 

Constantine also knew whether or not Tertul- 
lian, born A. D. 150, was correct in saying, in 
his Apology to the Rulers of the Roman Em- 
pire, that Pilate had affirmed the fact of the 
darkness occurring at the time of the cruci- 
fixion, and then, after recording Christ's con- 
demnation, death, burial, resurrection and as- 
cension, adding, 

You yourselves have an account of this world- 
portent still in your archives. * * All these things 
did Pilate unto Christ ; and now in fact a Christian 
in his own convictions, he sent word of Him to 
Caesar, who was at the time Tiberius. 

CONSTANTINE AND JUSTIN MARTYR. • 

And further still, Constantine could not have 
been in the dark as to the evidence bearing upon 

114 



the fact, as asserted by Justin Martyr, born 
about A. D. 89, in his Apologies, to the Emperor 
Antoninus Pius, that not only had Christ healed 
the sick, cast out demons, cleansed lepers and 
raised the dead, but That he did these things 
you can learn from the Acts of Pontius Pilate. 

CONSTANTINE UNDECEIVED. 

In short, vantaged as was Constantine, it 
would have been no more possible to have 
palmed upon him false stories of miracles done 
by Jesus, or Gospels failing, in any particular, 
to agree either with the originals or the actual 
facts, than it would be now to impose upon the 
nation untrue recitals of wonders done by the 
Pilgrim Fathers, or ascribe to Shakespeare 
dramas created a century and a half after he 
was dead. 

BUT ONE CHRIST STORY. 

Moreover, the Christ of the Four, is the only 
one known to the world. Fable has heard of 
no other. Legend has told of none else. Story 
has given no portraiture variant. Skeptic has 
conjured no cause to decry Him. Alike by pen 
and voice of the past. He was always the Risen 
Savior Though Paul might plant and Apollos 
water, it was alone the living Christ into which 
the church was rooted. If controversy reigned 
between believers, Jew and Gentile, the dis- 
putants were ever at one as to the rolling aside 

115 



of that stone. Primitive churchmen knew no 
other Jesus than the One crucified, no other 
Lord than the One glorified. At once ,after that 
Pentecostal day, churches were founded, based 
alone upon the resurrection. Thus instituted, 
no change, in regard to the attributes of the 
One on whom they rested, could thereafter pos- 
sibly have been made. 

CHRISTIANITY'S WANDERINGS. 

And Christianity wandered afar, far in ad- 
vance of Apostolic feet. Early was the story of 
Christ world-known. His glory the world's own. 
When Paul wrote to the Eomans, at most but 
28 years after the crucifixion, he addressed 
those then already knowing of the Christ of the 
Four. And when he declared that many then 
lived, who had beheld the One Arisen, a number 
of the Apostles had not yet passed to reward. 
Had a Diocletian burned every New Testament 
Text extant in his day, prayers would still have 
gone from numberless hearts and lips to the 
One on the Great White Throne. 

GOSPELS HISTORIC. 

So, to dispute the Gospel portrayals, in the 
absence of fable, or legend, or story, or tradi- 
tion, or word, or hint, suggestive of error, would 
certainly seem without warrant. Moreover, 
Paulus, Strauss and Renan, those three arch- 
enemies of the church, as also Schleiermacher, 

116 



the father of skeptical criticism, each con- 
structed a life of Jesus, with nothing but the 
four manscripts to build upon, thus forcefully, 
if unwittingly, testifying to the historic worth 
of those narratives. 

OTHER APOSTOLIC WITNESSES. 

Farther, not only does the voice of all tradi- 
tion, as also that of the whole primitive church, 
declare the One of the Gospels, but others of 
those who behold the Master, in all the splendor 
of His resurrection glory, have af&rmed the 
same, and this, too, at the supreme test of truth, 
the oath of their lives. 

WITNESS JUDE. 

For instance, Jude, the fierce, the vehement, 
the Amos of Christendom era, grows lowly and 
gentle, in the midst of anathema, to utter rich 
homage to Christ, his Lord and his Savior. 

WITNESS JAMES. 

And James, the just, the white-robed, the 
Lord's Brother, when nearing the end of splen- 
did service and exalted honor, closing a life ever 
sweet and wholesome with the morality of the 
Sermon on the Mount, sent final word of coun- 
sel to his world-scattered flock, with the greet- 
ing of humility and faith, JanieSy a servant of 
God and of the Lord Jesus Christ. 

117 



WITNESS PETER. 

And Peter, at first the breaker, at last the 
ocean, speaks mightiest word for the truth of 
the Gospel story. He reveals its salient facts, 
not only as to broad outline, but as to minute 
detail. He reflects, in all fulness, the historic 
Man of Sorrows, the wonderful Messiah. His 
writings concededly genuine, are filled with 
the very spirit of Jesus. They are voiceful of 
the fact that he had known the Master, had 
denied the Master, had been moulded by the Mas- 
ter's touch. And the One he shows, is ever and 
always the Blessed, the Divine, the Supreme. In 
a word, the Personage, of his pen, is none else 
than the One sketched by the Four. True, he 
does not, as do they, pause to prove Jesus the 
Christ. Such was not the task he had at hand. 
He spoke to believers, not unbelievers. Yet the 
Being, of whom he declared, was none else than 
the One Whose power shall conquer the world, 
whose glory shall flood the earth. Hearken to 
this, his Apostolic tribute: 

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, which, according to His a'bundant 
mercy, has begotten us again a Kvely hope by the 
resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. 

WITNESS PAUL. 

And, lastly, in order of proof, yet first in 
point of importance, stands Paul's avouchment 

118 



of the truth of the Gospel record. To a consid- 
eration of this, however, requires that thought 
be given alike to the witness and his words, for 
they are inseparable. 

PAUL. THE GREAT. 

Of the world's great, Paul was the greatest. 
Reared at Tarsus, that point where want and 
wealth, and toil and trade, and creed and cult, 
the most had fused, he was, of cosmopolitans, 
the one, the universal. Schooled at feet of the 
great Gamaliel, that all but Christian, he was, 
of dialecticians, the one, the Damascus blade. 

Intense, almost to aberration, he was incapa- 
ble of dissimulation, either as Saul or Paul. 
Even on that fateful day when Stephen was 
stoned, he was no less sincere than when he 
knelt, unawed, to the axe of Nero. 

His powers of intellect were so abnormal as 
to mark him as all but superhuman. For, 
though daily in battle with error, though har- 
ried by priest and by pagan, though beaten and 
bruised and broken, though driven from lair 
unto lair unknowing of refuge, he wrote, in a 
bare half-year, the Romans, Galatians and Sec- 
ond Corinthians, the three most superb crea- 
tions conceived by man; so profound, indeed, 
that no intellect, since, has been equal to the 
producing of either, no matter the time devoted 
to the task. 

Indeed so masterful was he that even a Renan 
voiced tribute to his greatness, saying that, 

119 



Over the vast extent of the Roman Empire, 
Paul everywhere projects his shadow. Such the 
man, such his genius. 

SAUL. 

Pharisaic, he hoped the life to be. Logical, 
he thought to gain it by merit. Reverent, he ab- 
horred blasphemy. Contemporary, with Christ, 
he had to know the Latter's assumptions. Re- 
volting at these, he deemed it God's will that he 
should destroy the church. Soon he made his 
name a word of dread to every believing heart. 
Such the man, Saul, on way to Damascus. 

ON WAY TO DAMASCUS. 

But something transpired on that way. This 
the world admits. What that was, he repeat- 
edly avows, vows at last with his life. And noth- 
ing less than the cause he names, could have 
produced effect so mighty. And, whatever that 
something was, occurred quick as the wink of 
an eye, quick as leaps the fiery flame from sur- 
charged cloud. And bolt of fire, that makes 
athletic form an instant corpse, works there the 
no more wondrous change than came, as flash, 
to soul of Saul. This, too, the world admits. 

PAUL. 

Note that change: His heart, once cold, was 
warm. His word, once stern, was mild. His 

120 



deed, once dread, was kind. The Jew became 
the Gentile; the Pharisee, the Christian; the 
persecutor, the persecuted. He put behind him 
earthly hopes. He, who had mental might to 
climb to topmost round of luring fame, declared 
to stay below where toiled humanity. He, who 
might have sat at will in purple, became, of 
choice, a thing of hate, a slave of toil, a man of 
grief, traduced, scorned, forsaken. And all this, 
too, the world admits. 

And then, after all this strange life, anom- 
alous unless Christ to him spake word, hear this, 
his dying call of triumph, from out that 
noisome cell: 

I have fought the good fight. I have finished the 
course. I have kept the faith. Henceforth there 
is laid up for me the crown of righteousness which 
the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at 
that day. 

PAUL AS PROOF. 

To believers, Paul, himself, is proof absolute 
of the Messiah of the Gospels. To the unbe- 
lievers, he is an enigma, unsolvable as the Mas- 
ter he served. They do not deny his wisdom, 
for they may not. They do not deny his change, 
for history would refute them. They do not 
deny his truth, for man does not, by willing 
falsehood, go to willing death. They do not 
deny his words. On the contrary, they speci- 
fically concede Romans, Galatians and First 
and Second Corinthians to be his. More, the 

121 



cMefest of the foes of recorded miracle, the cri- 
tical Baur, concedes these same four Epistles 
to be greater proof, of the historic Christ, than 
even the Gospels themselves. 

In short, the unbelievers are more mystified 
by the man Paul, and the evidence he gives, by 
his life and words, of the fact of the Man of 
Nazareth, than they are by all the rest of the 
testimony adduced. As declared by Nomad, 
Paul's change and course. Convinced men of the 
truth of Christianity with convincing power 
only equalled hy the resurrection.. And well 
may the unbeliever be thus confused when a 
mighty character, such as was Paul, solemnly 
affirms that, 

I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor 
angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things 
present, nor things to com-e, nor height, nor depth, 
nor any other creature, shall be able to separate 
us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus 
our Lord. 

PAUL'S AVOUCHMENT. 

In the light, then, of this tremendous avouch- 
ment by a witness of the very times of Jesus, a 
witness living long where Jesus came and 
taught and died, a witness whose very Epistles, 
attesting the resurrection, were placed, by 
Peter, in the rank of the Scriptures, a witness 
whose daily life and teachings were a constant 
affirmation of the One Arisen, it seems a mar- 
vel that any, no matter how captious, should 

122 



find it well to question, much less dispute, the 
authenticity of the narratives of the Apostolic 
Four. 

DISBELIEF MODERN. 

For more than 17 centuries, the Gospels went 
practically unchallenged. During that epoch, 
numberless phases of thought countered and 
clashed in the world of Christendom; yet none 
of these involved dispute as to the Word's au- 
thenticity. Also, then, countless creeds waxed 
and waned ; and yet each of these had, for postu- 
late, no less a dogma than the unquestioned au- 
thority of that Word. 

The metaphysical battles of Christianity, in 
all that long period, and many they were and 
sore, were not as to what the Gospels were, but 
alone as to what the Gospels meant. That is, 
disbelief is a child of modernity, a bantling with 
ancestry dating but to recent times. 

VOLTAIRE. 

Of doubters, Voltaire was first. And yet bis 
rank, as such, was low. The reason why he held 
a place, so mean, was not his want of wit, but 
will. For, of writers of France, he most was 
able. With temper dynamic, he struck, when 
aroused, like venomed adder. Fate and the 
church conspired to make him what he was. The 
one denied him flesh; the other peace. By this, 

123 



though Deist born, he grew a snarler. For this, 
though Deist still, he stabbed religion. But he 
was not a philosopher. He was a sneer. 

TUEBINGEN SCHOOL. 

Then arose a phase of thought, known as the 
Tuehingen School. And, of all beliefs claiming 
heed of culture, it was the one the most daring. 
For it essayed the no less task than that of 
taking the crown of Divinity from brow of 
Jesus. Led by Paulus and Schleiermacher and 
Baur and Strauss and Kenan, its victory seemed 
assured. Christianity, unused to attack, gave 
instant way. The heart left field to brain. The 
cross lay prone. Kationalism ruled the hour. 
Where Jesus, The Christy had been, Jesus, the 
man, remained. 

PAULUS. 

Paulus made first of assault, but not upon 
Jesus as man. Nor assailed he the Gospel story, 
save to strike therefrom all trace of supernat- 
ural. All else he granted true. To him each 
wonder told had basic fact, but not of miracle. 
The glory of the Lord was but flash of meteor. 
The Star in the East was but shepherd lamp. 
Jesus walked by not on, the sea. The trans- 
figuration was naught but man engirt by moun- 
tain haze. The resurrection was but from death" 
ly trance, not death itself. 

But followers of Paulus faltered. They 

124 



paused and gauged the cause he waged, and 
found it error. They saw it could not be that 
flash of meteor, or shepherd's lamp, or man on 
shore, or mountain haze, or deathly trance, was 
ever changed to miracle. They, too, divined that 
if the stories said of Jesus, and which so had 
changed the world, were sprung from facts as 
mean as Paulus reasoned, this was, indeed, the 
more of miracle than if each wonder told itself 
were true. And then they mocked at Paulus, 
as Strauss gave mortal blow. 

SCHLEIERMACHER. 

Then Schleiermacher, the gentle, was charged 
to lead the ranks of rationalism. And yet he 
scarce was fit for task so much of moment. For 
his was dual mind. In heart he full believed; 
of brain he more than doubted. In heart he 
soared with Jesus; of brain his wings were 
leaden. In heart he died a Christian; of brain 
he lived a Pantheist. 

And so, as fruitage of such strange duality, 
there came to him perforce, a creed of com- 
promise. By his eclectic will, each soul had 
gift to know the truth. For self, he gave this 
thought unbounded sweep. Denying Satan, he 
held for evil. Denying Jesus he held Him 
transcendent. Denying miracle, he held it 
credible. Denying Divinity, he held Christ Re- 
deemer. Not half a churchman, he partook of 
the sacred elements, from his own hand, when 

125 



on dying bed. For Gospel word, as such, he 
had no care, much less of reverence. And yet 
he held that very word unerring guide to life 
of Christ. His belief, in fine, was strange 
mosaic, with blend of parts, divine and earthy, 
Nor rule had he, save sheer caprice, to gauge the 
blending. 

His cult, so well conceived to worldly mind, 
gained wide and instant heed. The salt of faith, 
by which the cause of Christ had been con- 
served for centuries, at once had lost its savor. 
And orthodoxy, if not the church itself, seemed 
lost in doubt. 

But soon the world grew dazed. Each index 
hand, to fact, gave course divergent. Man 
queried, as once did Pilate, What is Truth? 
Then, to him, came adage old. False in party 
false in all. And so he reasoned that, granting 
Gospel tale not wholly fact, no word thereof 
was worth the telling. And, too. He knew that, 
were the wonders told of Jesus not as said, then 
one, the greatest, the resurrection, was also 
myth, and clutch of death had never yet been 
broken. So hope revolted; and eclecticism 
passed. 

BAUR. 

Baur, the bold, then led. Audacious beyond 
the others, he sought to go by stranger route. 
His course lay more remote yon side of miracle. 
Yet, like to them, he called the Sketch, outlined 

126 



as Jesus, the Perfect. Like to them, also, he 
gave, to Gospel Authors, though writing much 
they knew untrue, the meed of honest motive 

But here his line of thought diverged from 
beaten path. He held the Gospels unhistoric, in 
whole, not in part. More consistent, too, than 
others of his school, he claimed, the Christ, of 
story, a fiction, not a fact. To him, the Nazarine 
was olden legend humanized, olden fancy per- 
sonized. In Christ's miracles, he saw but 
Grecian fable revealed; in Christ's omnipo- 
tence, Eoman power portrayed; in Christ's ex- 
altation, Jewish vision fulfilled. 

In short, the Master, to him, was only the 
summing, in story, of all of the best of dream- 
ings past. Yet, though fixing the date, of this 
creation of art, as near to the middle of second 
century, he gavejio hint as to the authors who 
thus produced su(jh wonder Hero, one not only 
combining the wisdom and hopes of mightiest 
peoples, but outvying, in power and grandeur, 
the added perfections alike of man and of 
fiction. 

But Baur was soon deserted. Even rational- 
ism feared to follow him on course so wild, It 
could not understand why the bestial tale, of 
Greece, should serve for cause for Godlike 
miracle. It could not fathom why the cruel 
might, of Rome, should serve for cause for lowly 
Kingdom of Jesus. Nor could it reason why the 

127 



worldling, hoped by Jew, should serve for cause 
for crucified Savior. So thought recoiled; and 
Baur went way alone. 



STRAUSS. 

And then came Strauss, the intolerant. He 
loved theological strife. He broke lance with 
any one who stepped into religious ring. He 
held the believer fool or knave, or both. He held 
in contempt, likewise, 'the rationalist who 
reasoned basic fact for miracle. 

Yet, though contentious, he was unstable as 
the wind. Strange, too, each veer of breeze, but 
sent him farther from Jesus. Beginning a 
church pastor, he ended a rank atheist. Found 
in position of unbelief one day, the next saw 
him occupying advance ground on like line. To 
him, the human race itself was God, the human 
race itself worked miracle. In a word, this his 
final theology: 'No prophecy; no marvel; no 
God-man; no life to he. 

But Christ, for him, had wondrous charm. He 
admitted Him the first of earth. He conceded 
His church a human need. He accepted, as 
genuine. His words as found in the Gospels. He 
asserted His teachings the only perfect ones de- 
livered to man. Yet he held the claimed resur- 
rection a world-historical humbug, the marvels 
of mercy, affirmed by the Four, stupidly false. 

As to origin of the Gospels, he had theory 
unique. He ridiculed the basic scheme of 

128 



Paulus. He disagreed with the eclectic thought 
of Schleiermacher. He perceived the flaw in 
allegoric plan of Baur. Still, with all those 
errors to warn him, he concluded more gro- 
tesquely than either. 

According to his theory of myth, the church 
created Christ, not Christ the church. He 
reasoned that believers, of second century, con- 
vinced, by early tradition, that Jesus was, in 
truth, the world's Messiah, conceived Him to 
have done the marvelous deeds, by prophecy, 
Talmud and Fable foretold of the One Ex- 
pected. So, moved by this thought, they de- 
voutly ascribed to their Hero all of Messianic 
dreaming. And thus, without cause, nor yet 
with motive of ill, there came, to the brow of 
Jesus, the heavenly crown of Divinity. 

But rationalism felt that some one had blun- 
dered. It knew that the Gospels had permanent 
form more than a century prior to the date fixed 
by theory of myth. It knew that the Christ of 
the Four, not alone was stranger to thought of 
Jew, of Greek, and of Koman, but never had 
being in the mind of man in the whole annals 
of time. It knew that the believers, mentioned 
by Pliny, the Pagan, in his letter to Trajan, 
A. D. 117, worshiped none other than the deified 
One of the Gospels. It knew, by the very gross- 
ness of the pseudo-histories of Jesus, extant in 
the early days, that the majestic portrayal, 
penned by the Four, was neither the product of 
human conceit nor earthly invention. 

129 



Farther, it knew that Buddha, not Buddhism, 
dreamed the dream; that Confucius, not Con- 
fucianism, spoke the maxims; that Mahomet, 
not Mahometanism, told the Borak ride. So, 
reasoning from this, it concluded that Christ, 
not Christianity, created His Gospel. It also 
knew that, if Jesus were figment of fiction, then 
authors most wicked, with genius beyond the 
mortal, had lived unknown and labored unsung 
for the lifting and glory of man; and here, for 
the first, from source of impurity, waters had 
come for the healing of ill. 

Moreover it knew, as afiStrmed by the skep- 
tical Rousseau, that granting the Gospels un- 
true, their creators were more astounding than 
the Hero they invented. In short, it knew, as 
said by the Unitarian Parker, that 'None hut a 
Jesus could have fabricated a Jesus. So ration- 
alism reasoned the one who had blundered; and 
Strauss was friendless. 

RENAN. 

Renan was last of the doubters of note. Like 
Schleiermacher, he reasoned on eclectic lines, 
yet to end somewhat more definite. He ad- 
mitted the historic Man of Sorrows, attributing 
to Him, as well, all the beauties of character as- 
serted by firmest believer. Though claiming the 
Gospels but legend, he conceded them to have 
been written, in the main, by the ones as com- 
monly held. But, with the others of his cult, he 
expunged the entire supernatural. 

130 



His thought led to results droll, if not actual 
ly ludicrous. By his ipse dixit, of the 971 verses 
in Matthew, 791 were genuine; of the 678 in 
Mark, 384; of the 1151 in Luke, 606. John he 
eliminated. His conclusions naturally met im- 
timely end. They were based upon three un- 
provable assumptions: First, that part of the 
Gospels was false; second, that, with part un- 
true, the rest was worthy of credence; and, 
third, that, with fact and fancy mixed, he had 
the knowledge to cull the former. As was the 
case with the Bible, printed in colors and which 
died in light of yestermorn, his work was gone 
at once the rays of reason lit his polychrome 
page. 

INGERSOLL. 

Ingersoll needs thought the least, for he had 
least of thought. The others, of his guild, as- 
sayed to know; he boasted ignorance. They 
smote Divinity; he mocked. They reasoned; he 
ridiculed. They labored; he laughed. 

And yet his words, betimes, were glad as rain- 
drop tinkle on cottage roof; bright as dewdrop 
glisten on mountain fern. For his was hand to 
sweep the lyre of soul. And, had he willed, he 
might have taught the world new dreams of 
hope, have brought to earth new scenes elysian. 

But, strange, he had no care to look above ; no 
thought for life beyond. Earthy were his wak- 
ing dreams. The flowers of his growing were 
artificial only. Their fragrance came from 

131 



garden of Farina. They had no honey to re- 
joice the toiler. They had no pollen to wing to 
rooting elsewhere. They were designed to 
wreathe the urn wherein were ashes. They were 
contrived to twine the cenotaph wherein no life 
should be. 

He longed to rank as foe of Christ ; yet feared 
to dare. He felt that mortal skill was all too 
poor to face such Adversary. And, too, he 
heard the Master strive with sin; he heard Him 
pray on Calvary. And then his will was gone; 
his heart was filled with tears. And so he chal- 
lenged Moses, and lost. Nor injured he religijn; 
for he was not a warrior. He was an epigram. 

GOSPELS LIVE. 

And so yet lives the story of the Four. The 
foes are gone who sought to lay it low. They 
now are scarce a memory. Nor have they left a 
thought behind the world deems worthy. And 
those who warred the most on Jesus, but 
wrought the most to make his message sure. The 
clouds of doubt, that came at skeptic call, have 
fled as ugly dreams. 

Nor shall the Gospels die. For One declared 
that, though the heavens and earth should flee 
away, not so His words. The nations pass. The 
cities go to sepulcher. The hills race down to 
ocean grave. But words of Christ abide. They 
are virile as when they wooed in Palestine. 
They still with life are regnant. They are alone 
immortal. 

132 



GOSPEL FORCE. 

Only giant force could make those words ??ur- 
vive. For such effect may never be without su- 
premest cause. And, in the attributes of God, 
but Truth had gift so potent. Critic eyes have 
scanned the Gospel story. Argus eyes have 
dogged the steps of Jesus. And yet, not once, in 
all the past, has flaw been seen in either. They 
both have place in finite mind as wisdom of the 
Infinite. They both command obeisant thought 
of all the best on earth. And, if be good or ill, 
the one who sits in judgment, he gives at once 
decree declaring them the Perfect. 

GOSPELS UNIQUE. 

The Gospel sketch is most unique; nor mat- 
ters whit the viewpoint of beholder. And if, 
by chance, it came of yesterday, and so but 
fancy, or grew in olden time, by fable, it still is 
marvel. For never yet has cycle been with gift 
of mind to dream it. And, false or fact, it 
stands supreme, the marvel of creative art. God 
there unfolds the majesty of man. Man there be- 
holds the majesty of God. Of needs, its lights and 
shades are variant. For artists had, as patrons, 
the one the Jew; the one the Greek; the one the 
Roman; the fourth the whole of culture. And 
yet, although this changing view, its parts are 
so concrete, so strangely blent, it seems the 
thought of one, the gift of one, not thought nor 
gift of Four. Here, then, is wonder. 

133 



AUTHORS UNIQUE. 

And strange the authors were. The failings of 
themselves and brethren they sketched as 
though uncaring. They told their weakness and 
their ills; their foibles and their faults; their 
follies and their sins. Nothing they concealed. 
No more dispassioned record could have come, 
by hand of truth, than Gospel story. 

More, they looked to Christ as Hero. They 
knew His glance, for they had felt Him scan 
their souls. They knew His voice, for they 
had heard Him woo the world. They knew His 
spell, for they had seen Him melt the throng. 
Still, not once of these they speak, though well 
they knew how much the earth would long to 
hear. 

And more, they looked to Christ as Lord. 
They knew His Power, for they had felt Him 
mould their beings. They knew His wisdom, 
for they had seen Him silence cavil. They knew 
His mercy, for they had seen Him lift the fallen. 
And, yet, if Christ, Himself, had penned the 
story, no less of Him, had been of eulogy. And 
this is wonder. 

ECCE HOMO. 

Behold, too, the Man. He came in age ob- 
scene. He sprang from parentage obscure. His 
natal bed was straw of manger. His baby life 
was sought by murder. His boyhood days were 
veiled in poverty. His training came at bench 
of carpenter. 

134 



John, the rude, then stirred Judea. With 
voice of clarion he urged repentance. He said 
he came the messenger of Christ. The Jews, for 
age on age, had hoped the One Expectant. And 
so they heard and went with haste to Jordan. 
So also went the Carpenter, went to be baptized 
of kinsman. Then skies and John declared Him 
son of God. 

At Galilee, He saw some lowly fishermen. He 
bade them quit their nets, to fish, with him, for 
men. Others, too. He called, until His ranks 
were full. His soldiers then were twelve; sim- 
ple, timid, unarmed, one a traitor. And with 
this force He thought to win the world. And 
this is wonder. 

CHRIST'S CAREER. 

Note, then. His course. He had no scrip nor 
purse. Unlike the ox. He had no place for rest. 
Unlike the fox. He had no haunt for refuge. Un- 
like the bird, he had no height for safety. 
Against Him was a world, a sordid world. 

He sought the lanes and byways, where dwelt 
the lowly. Soon, to Him, came many, wonder- 
ing, hungering. To each He gave of food. To 
him who cared for such. He gave the bread of 
life. His voice outwooed that call for Jordan, 
and swelling crowds soon passed upon His 
way. On slope of green, He spake them words 
outweighing earthly wisdom. 

And then He wandered here and there on 
deeds of mercy. No one so poor He did not 

135 



heed. No call so low He did not hear. No wound 
so deep He did not heal. He spake the dead to 
life, and sinner granted pardon. On pious hypo- 
crite, He poured invective hot as melted lava. 
On Evil's brow, He seared the brand of murder. 
On sordid thieves. He laid the thong until they 
fled the Temple. To those who mourned, for 
sin. He gave divinest comfort. 

He set Himself as rule for human action; nor 
did the throngs rebel. He held Himself as equal 
unto God; nor did such thought offend His fol- 
lowers. He claimed that earth should give Him 
worship; nor yet has man declared Him blas- 
phemer. All this is wonder. 

CHRIST'S TRroMPH. 

Mark, then. His triumph. Up eastern slope 
He rode. Thousands pressed to greet Him. 
Hosannas pierced the air. Before Him waved 
the palm. He moved in solemn state. He came 
a King to claim His own. Nor, of earth, had 
other seemed so strange. So grand His mien, 
the very mob would see His exaltation. 

At night He sat at feast, the honored Gaest. 
About Him ranged a princely few, save one was 
Satan. Above Him bent an angel host from 
balcony of God. The food was more than 
royal; the wine was most divine. His body 
was the one; the other was His blood. The 
feast, in whole, was banquet fit for heavenly 
palace. 

136 



To Him came soon the kiss, the robe, the 
crown. No more He walked with fishermen, but 
stood with Roman ruler. No more he went un- 
guarded, but hemmed by Roman eagles. He 
climbed the steeps of Calvary. He went to 
mount the Throne. And then the mob, the 
frantic mob, beheld Him lifted high. 

A prayer went up to God, went up for mob: 
Forgive them; they know not what they do. 

A cry outrang the roar, the savage roar: 
Eloi, Eldij Lama sahachthani. And then the 
mob, the demon mob, had seen His exaltation. 
All this is more than wonder. 

THE CHRIST. 

The Gospel tale is fact. Mortal may not add 
thereto. Mortal dare not take therefrom. Its 
Christ is not of earth. Its Chirst is not of false- 
hood. Not human brain conceived Him. Not 
human heart evolved Him. He loosed the grasp 
of death. He came from tomb The King. His 
throne is based on Truth. His sway endures 
by love. In Him was life supernal. By him 
came life eternal. 

And so, as the voice of a great multitude, and 
the voice of many waters, and the voice of 
mighty thunderings, let earth give shout, with 
John, Alleluia^ for the Lord God Omnipotent 
reigneth. 



137 



TWO MIRACLES 



Two Miracles 



THE UNCOMMON DIFFICULT TO BELIEVE. 

Things outside of our experience are difficult 
to believe. A native of the tropics could illy 
grasp the thought of the freezing of water. The 
story of the lightning and key would have been 
capital fairy lore prior to Franklin's day. The 
electric light, telephone and phonograph would 
alike have been in the domain of the unbe- 
lievable prior to this age. He who, but a few 
years ago, had prophesied the sending of wire- 
less message, would have been lucky indeed to 
have avoided the doors of a lunatic asylum. 
Hence, to convince reason of fact, beyond its ex- 
perience, requires evidence the most cogent. To 
many, the actual new can never be established 
save by absolute demonstration. 

LAW OF FORCE. 

Force confined seeks escape. But, while striv- 
ing to break the entire circle about it, its might 
is displayed most where barrier frailest. The 
water, laughing and romping in joy of newly 

141 



gained freedom, crept forth, at first, where dam 
had been weakened, perchance by lobster. In 
short, force when restrained, struggles with all 
without, making its exit finally at point where 
hindrance the least. 

LAW OF MIND. 

Mind is force, girt by mystery. The circle 
about it may, under assault, recede and length- 
en; not break nor weaken. To escape from the 
little world, of the known, to the limitless uni- 
verse, of the unknown, is ever its aim. And 
when, with might supreme, it pushes forward, it 
makes its way by lines of least resistance; for 
this is the law controlling the progress of force, 
no matter its variant forms. 

What a Loeb and a De Lage took for experi- 
ment, in their efforts to produce life artificially, 
were the jelly fish, star fish and sea urchin, for 
the reason that those are the forms of life most 
nearly at the very boundary line dividing the in- 
organic from the organic. 

LESSER WONDER ACCEPTED. 

According to this same law of progression, 
the mind when confronted by the dilemma of 
having to choose betwen two wonders, accepts 
the one nearest to the common, for the reason 
that, to do so, requires the lesser degree of 
credulity. 

The traveller, seeing Hindoo fakir plant seed, 

142 



grow tree, and then climb into the branches, all 
this in the open, and all but instantaneously, 
found himself bound to admit, as a fact, either 
the wonder, as he saw it, or the wonder of his 
having been so strangely deceived. Acting un- 
der this law of mind, he naturally elected to 
concede the deception, this being, of course, the 
lesser wonder of the two. Later, upon viewing 
the performance again, he was enabled, by the 
aid of his kodak, to demonstrate such election 
to have been correct. Neither branch nor tree 
was there. 

BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY. 

Belief in immortality is race wide. The In- 
dian had hunting grounds beyond the clouds. 
The Norseman battled and won, in spirit land, 
then drinking ale from his foeman's skull. The 
Brahman bowed, either to Brahma or Siva, 
good or ill, according as he hoped or feared for 
the world to be. The Parsee was partisan of 
Ormuzd, in the battle with Ahriman, that he 
might share in the triumph of light in its con- 
quest of darkness. The Buddhist preached dog- 
mas and practiced rites to win advancement in 
the myriadic forms of existence through which 
he was to pass on way to Nirvana. The 
Egyptian appeared before Osiris and Court, in 
the underworld, to learn, from the record of 
Thoth, the fate awaiting him, whether of Para- 
dise or Purgatory. The Mahometan, falling in 
fight with infidel, had a heaven awaiting him, 

143 



with streams and trees and flowers and birds, 
and, above all, a harem of houris. The Jew 
learned, from marvel, sign and prophetic 
tongue, of the One who, uncaring for others, 
had salvation awaiting the tribe of Israel. And 
the Christian heard entranced the words of Him 
who declared I am the resurrection and the life. 
Vergniaud voiced the thought of the world, 
when facing the guillotine, he shouted as cheer 
unto comrades in doom. Death is hut the pas- 
sage to a higher state of being. In short, the 
whole of humanity has had idea, ranging in de- 
gree from slight hope to full faith, that, though 
a man die, yet shall he live again. 

DISBELIEF IN RESURRECTION OP JESUS. 

Still, despite the oneness of thought of the 
life to be, myriads of those, entertaining it, re- 
fuse to accept, as true, the story of the resurrec- 
tion of Jesus. And strange this is, for it seems 
that man would, in order to a footing for his 
thought of a world to come, be quick to assert, 
even though proof were slight, that some one 
person, at least, had been known to have arisen 
from the grave. 

And, in view of the farther thought of man- 
kind, that heaven is the abode of the perfect, it 
would seem also, that all might easily believe 
that Jesus had broken the bonds of death and 
ascended there; for, of all the beings coursing 
the earth, no other mortal has been so worthy, 
as was He, to serve as proof of immortality. 

144 



WHICH OF TWO MIRACLES? 

Yet, knowing the resurrection story to be a 
stumbling block to many an honest seeker after 
truth, attempt will here be made to prove to the 
doubter, that he is, by the logic of facts, face to 
face with a dilemma, in virtue of which he must 
either concede the wonder of the resurrection 
of Jesus, or admit, to be true, another marvel, 
vastly the more strange and requiring, for its 
acceptance, infinitely the more of credulity. 

For the purpose, then, of this discussion, the 
theme here in hand, might well be amplified 
into form of the portentous query. Which of 
Two Miracles shall he believed^ that Jesus arose, 
or did not arise? 

THE TRIUNE. 

The world, at the beginning of our era, was 
dominated by the triune, the Jew, the Greek, 
the Roman, each asserting a sole control within 
the sphere he called his own. 

The first of this triune, the Jew, claimed re- 
ligious sway. Nor did he ask too much. For 
his was worship, so exalted, it surely seemed it 
must have come, as told, from pulpit rock of 
Sinai. Yet the Jew, himself, was so strangely 
worldly, it came as human need, that, of his 
power bereft, he should be whipt, by the winds 
of God's wrath, unto the very ends of the 
earth. 

145 



The second of tMs triune, the Greek, claimed 
literary sway. Nor here did he err. For bis 
was culture, so superb , that builders in all 
aftertimes have used his work for thought for 
mental structures. Yet the Greek, himself, was 
so strangely vulgar, it was but right he lost his 
high estate and sank, full soon, to depths, so 
low his very name became a hissword of re- 
proach. 

The third of this triune, the Roman, claimed 
legal sway. Nor was this presumptuous. For 
his was law so fair that, all despite the change 
of years, it governs empires still. Yet the 
Roman, himself, was so strangely unjust, it fell 
to him, full soon, by fate's decree, to blindly 
grope amidst decay, there to hear, perchance, 
by spirit spell, the dying moans of man and 
beast by him once doomed to circus ring. 

TRroNE CONTROL. 

Such, then, was the world when Jesus came, 
one boasting wise religion, perfect literature, 
splendid law. And yet all these, by their very 
worth, but made it possible for the triune, con- 
trolling them, the better to stay the course of 
right, and to make the more difficult the way of 
the Man of Nazareth. Nor, in all time, did the 
world seem less prepared, than then, for the 
coming of the feet of the Perfect One; nor was 
that coming so of need, as then, to stay the 
world from end as dread as that which came to 
the cities of olden plain. 

146 



ROME, THE WORLD. 

Rome was the world when Jesus was here. 
Her empire then had a population of probably 
100 millions, approximately two-thirds slave. 
Of the remaining third, the vast majority was 
of the lower strata, the rich being comparative- 
ly few, and the number growing less. 

THE SLAVES. 

The slave classes were degraded beyond 
words. Clinging, with pauper grip, to the 
skirts of affluence, without means, or abodes, 
or even hope, they occupied about a like place, 
in Roman life, as do the scavenger dogs of Con- 
stantinople today. If they had souls, they seem- 
ingly were unconscious of the fact. 

THE LOWER STRATA. 

The lower of the freeborn classes were still 
worse, as a matter of morals, or rather im- 
morals, than were the slaves. Too indolent to toil, 
and having long since drained the cup of legiti- 
mate pleasure to the very dregs, nothing ap- 
pealed to their depraved palates, save blood; 
and, if it chanced to be human blood, all the 
lustier they drank. Hanging about the ring, 
into which man was flung and beast driven, 
frenzied was their glee when pitiless fangs tore 
pitiful throats. And, if they had souls, it would 
have been better for them were it not so. 

147 



THE UPPER STRATA. 

The upper classes were still more wicked, 
more wanton, more depraved, than were yet any 
of those below. They were even responsible for 
the debauching and brutalizing of the others, 
for they alone were at the cost of each beastial 
orgy, and alone set the table for each glutton- 
ous feast. They were the familiars of all the 
spirits of shame, and to no depth of iniquity 
were they stranger. Nor was this to be said of 
a Tiberius, a Gains, a Claudius, or a Nero, alone ; 
for the whole of the upper layer of society was 
simply reeking rottenness. 

INDICTMENT OF ROME. 

And, not before, had the earth beheld such 
filth in high places. The greater the wealth the 
more offensive the luxury. Gout was common, 
even among the fairest of the young. Emetic was 
taken before feast that space might be had to fill. 
Brains of peacocks and tongues of nightingales 
were not unusual delicacies. At a single de- 
bauch, 2,000 fishes and 7,000 birds were fed to 
Vitellius and his gourmand circle. Lady 
Paulina appeared in betrothal robe costing more 
than two million dollars. Seneca, accounted 
alike the wise and the worthy and compared 
even to a Paul, stole fifteen million dollars in 
three years. Senators brazenly declared mar- 
riage to be only an intolerable necessity. Women 
married but to be divorced, divorced but to be 

148 



married. Matrons reckoned their ages, not by 
years, but by the number of husbands discarded. 
Grave officials admitted that it was the usual, 
with them, to expose their own children unto 
slavery or death. Philosophies of Plato and 
Aristotle were forgotten, memories of Marathon 
and Thermopylae dead. Sensuality revelled in 
vulgarities scarce now thinkable, let alone speak- 
able. Demons, asserting divinity, demanded 
tribute of national worship. Fifty-three per- 
sons, lascivious or worse, were granted imperial 
apotheosis by decree of the Caesars. Homage 
was accorded to numerous myths, the better to 
provide occasion for lewdness more varied. 
Daphne beguiled to lecherous groves, Laverna 
debauched in hideous haunts. Nero caused the 
death of his mother, the victim herself being but 
little less vile than the monster contriving her 
murder. The same cowardly fiend slew also his 
wife, then inducing an obsequious Senate to vote 
divine honors to the babe of the one he had 
butchered. Even the great Augustus, father of 
the age bearing his name, left of solemn record, 
as if adding a cubit to his glory, that he had ex- 
hibited, for the battle to death, no less than 
8,000 gladiators, and 3,510 wild beasts. So if it 
be that the opulent then had souls, those pos- 
sessed were fit alone for the abode of the 
dammed. 

WORLD DECAY. 

Such, then, were the times into which Jesus 
149 



came, times, the horror and degradation of 
which, mortal tongue may not tell, human 
imagination not conceive. True, a few noble 
spirits there were in that sodden world, but 
not enough to have stayed divine Avenger, even 
upon terms as generous as those accorded unto 
City of Lot at pleading of Abraham. For, then, 
the splendor of Jewish dream was paling; the 
beauty of Grecian thought fading; the glory of 
Eoman rule dying. And then too, decay and 
ruin were so universal that logic was degen- 
erated to platitude, eloquence to bombast; 
mirth was mere mockery, love mere lust ; friend- 
ship was alone sham, virtue alone pretense. And 
then, also, in the clutch of a dead paganism, lay 
faith, strangled, while despair, blear-eyed and 
grim, sat upon the throne of the Caesars con- 
trolling the destinies of the earth. Surely, not 
since the day when the world was deluged for 
sin, was there any other hour when reason had 
cause so little to hope the coming of the Perfect 
Man as the times when Jesus came. 

IMPERFECT AND PERFECT. 

No matter the origin of evil, it is here. If be 
true that there may be some of good in all ill, no 
room for doubt exists but that there is some ill 
in all good. And, not since Eden was barred to 
the human, has intelligence claimed that any 
being was perfect, save alone Jesus. 

150 



ABRAHAM, the faithful, was also he who 
sent Hagar and his own child out into the wilds 
with but a jug of water. 

ISAAC, the gentle, the patriarch beloved, was 
also the weak, the easily deceived by the cun- 
ning of his own household. 

JACOB, the wrestler, the Prince of the Al- 
mighty, was also the betrayer of trusting father 
and supplanter of unwary brother. 

JOSEPH, the chosen, the preserver of Jevrish 
race, was also the heartless who despoiled starv- 
ing Egyptian of his lands for the benefit of a 
grasping Pharaoh. 

MOSES, the great, the magnificent law-giver, 
was also the leader needing to be held to duty 
by sign and by word, and by fire and by cloud, 
in short, by Omnipotent power. 

DAVID, the lowly shepherd, the inspired 
singer, the storied hero, was also the miscreant 
who sent soldier to purposed death in order to 
insure to himself the soldier's widow. 

SOLOMON, the wise, the builder of Holy of 
Holies, the one at whose bidding came the 
glory of Shekinah, was also the toyer with idola- 
try, the violater of divine will, finally becoming 
so unworthy as to well deserve to be portrayed, 
by limning art, as half in heaven, half in hell. 

ELIJAH, the stern, the mocker of Baal, the 
rebuker of royalty, the honored of God, was also 

151 



the despondent, the discouraged, regaining 
heart and hope alone when came, for him, on 
mountain height, the earthquake's tread, the 
hurricane's roar, the lightning's flash, and then 
Jehovah's Voice. 

JOHN the BAPTIST, the sturdy, the best 
born of woman, the privileged beholder of the 
descent of the Holy Spirit, was also the one 
who, from Herodian dungeon by the sea, sent 
to learn if, after all, the One baptized by him, at 
the ford of Jordan, was indeed the expected 
Messiah. 

Perfection, in fine, is not only impossible with 
man, but the inspired pen affirmed that even 
The angels he charged with folly. And Carlyle 
was right, when he declared that, In man, is a 
hatred more cruel than panther of the wood or 
she-hear bereft of whelps. 

ILL IN ALL. 

Thus ,as will be seen, amidst the golden woof 
and warp, of good, has ever run the darkened 
thread of ill. Nor may human skill remove this 
sinister thread, for it is, of the fabric of life, it- 
self a very part; woven there, perchance, by 
hand of Satan; yet, however, there, still help- 
ing, by contrast, and it may be by divine will, 
to make the fabric appear all the more beauti- 
ful. 

So well did the Jew perceive this ill, in all, 
that he was wont to affirm that, were but a 

152 



single perfect man to come and bide but a single 
day, such lone fact would bring the Messiah, 
and this, too, even before the time appointed for 
His coming. 

ONE PERFECT. 

But, of all those who have ever trooped across 
the stage of time, one Person, and One alone, 
has been accorded the glory, alike by believer, 
skeptic, atheist, infidel, and pagan, of being 
without so much as even a hint or trace of sin 
to darken the splendor of His character. 

And, surely then, that One such came at all, 
and especially, too, in an age so hideous as that 
of such coming, was itself not the less marvel- 
ous than would His stepping forth, from tomb, 
have been, with m^sage of life for a wondering 
world. 

CHARACTERISTIC SKETCH OF JESUS. 

The character of Jesus, as given in the Gos- 
pels, is strangely unique. As portrayed. He 
stands alone among beings created. The world 
had never before beheld His like, nor has it 
since. If pictured aright. He was of course the 
Divine. 

If the delineation is but art, then the four 
masters of its creation were, as affirmed by the 
great skeptic, Renan, themselves more than 
mortal; fo'r they drew a character, not alone 
new to human thought, but One so pure, so 
strong, so exalted, so Godlike, and One also, in 

153 



wMch the colors of heaven and earth are so 
splendidly blended, that cavil has ever since 
stood mute before the matchless painting, while 
criticism has bowed, in rapt admiration, declar- 
ing that, LOj here is the Perfect. 

Moreover, the character upon that canvas, is 
so simple, so natural, so graceful, as to mark it 
at once as of real life rather than artistic fancy. 
Its shade, of the mortal, needs its light of the 
immortal; its splendor, of the immortal, would 
dazzle the human vision were it not for its back- 
ground of the mortal. Nor could that scene be 
changed in aught and yet rivet the gaze. 

From that creation no line could be effaced 
without marring its majesty, without shocking 
the beholder. As well hope to take, from hu- 
man body, its circulatory system and yet have 
life remain, as to think to rob that Character of 
a touch, either of the mortal or immortal, and 
yet have symmetry survive. For its two phases, 
the human, the divine, are so inseparably one, 
each so a part of the other, that no brush could 
have produced them separately, no art, either 
of earth or sky, could divide them. 

And the many splendid intellectuals, alike of 
this and other lands, who have given so much of 
the very best, that in them lay, to erase the su- 
pernatural from the canvas and leave the nat- 
ural still there, have found before them, as a re- 
sult of their labors, not a character of grace or 
of beauty, but one a vertible monster of egotism, 
untruth and blasphemy. 

154 



IF JESUS HUMAN AND DIVINE. 

If the portraiture, of those Masters, was of 
life and not of art, the Personage sketched was 
infinite in all those graces possible to man, in- 
finite in all those attributes conceivable of God. 
From the lowliest to the haughtiest, all were 
His. 

In Him, the toiling had cheer, the fainting 
strength, the mourning comfort. At His will, 
the blind saw, the deaf heard, the dumb spake. 
At His touch, the leper was clean, the palsied 
well, the maimed whole. At his word, the wind 
hushed, the sea calmed, the tree withered. Thus 
He spake, and the dead obeyed: Maiden arise. 
Young man^ I say unto thee^ Arise. Lazarus, 
come forth. 

HIS CLAIMED GIFTS. 

Then, too. He asserted His own gifts of being 
in way so stately, so exalted, as to thrill the 
earth. Listen : 

I am not of this world. 

I am the light of the world. 

I am the way, the truth, the light. 

I am the living bread which came down from 
heaven. 

Whosioever drinketh the water I give shall never 
thirst. 

And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw 
all men to me. 

Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words 
shall not pass away. 

155 



He that denietii me before men shall be denied 
before the angels of God. 

Every one who shall confess me before men, him 
shall the son of man also confess before the angels 
of God. 

Every one who seeth the son, and believeth on 
him may have eternal life, and I will raise him up 
at the last day. 

HIS ASSERTED OMNIPOTENCE. 

And, too, his assertions of Omnipotence, were 
so daring, so startling, that none but the lips of 
a God, or those of blasphemy, could have ut- 
tered them. Listen again : 

I am the son of God. 

I and my Father are one. 

Before Abraham was, I am. 

I came forth from the Father. 

I am the resurrection and the life. 

He that seeth me seeth him that sent me. 

I lay down my life that I might take it again. 

He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet 
i^all he live. 

Hereafter shall the son of man sit on the right 
hand of the power of God. 

For the son of man shall come in the glory of his 
Father and his angels, and then shall he reward 
every man according to his works. 

IF JESUS BUT MAN. 

But, cloud the vision, so that the exquisite 
colorings of the supernatural be not perceived 

156 



upon that glorified canvas, and still the one, 
even thus dull-eyed, will behold there the divin- 
ity of Perfection. For the Sketch, from the 
easels of those Masters, is the highest possible 
concept of the human. As mere man, the One 
portrayed is immeasurably great. He was, in- 
deed, the very incarnation of the precepts He 
Himself taught. Not once did He point an- 
other to a standard higher than Himself. Not 
once did he plead to the world save that it might 
follow Him, might learn of Him, might love as 
He loved. His challenge to the ages. Who con- 
vict eth me of sinf has never been, nor ever will 
be, accepted either by unbeliever, critic, skeptic, 
or cynic. 

TRIBUTE OF DISBELIEVERS. 

Each of the great disbelievers bowed unto 
Jesus as the man matchless. 

Spinoza, the acosmist, regarded Him as The 
truest symbol of heavenly wisdom. 

Mill, the materialist, found His church The 
chief refuge and hope of oppressed humanity. 

Eenan, the romanticist, conceded that In 
Him is condensed all that is good and lofty in 
our nature. 

Schelling, the pantheist, attested that None 
before Him had revealed the Infinite to man in 
such a manner. 

Ewald, the orientalist, held Him The alto- 
gether human source of the highest spiritual 
life of humanity. 

157 



Paine, the infidel, confessed that The moral- 
ity He preached and practiced was of the most 
'benevolent kind. 

Hegel, the absolutist, though denying Him 
God Incarnate, acknowledged Him The earth^s 
one symbol of such incarnation. 

Baur, the rationalist, agreed that The higher 
exhibition of the solitary and incommunicable 
life of God is nowhere else so apparent as in 
Him. 

Schleiermacher, the individualist, portrayed 
Him as A Being so wonderfully fashioned that 
religious life is and must remain dependent 
upon Him. 

Fichte, the egoist, asserted that, Till the end 
of time all the sensible would bow before Him 
and humbly acknowledge the exceeding glory of 
such a phenomenon. 

Paulus, the realist, admitted Him An Extra- 
ordinary phenomenon, altogether peculiar in 
His character, elevated high above the whole 
human race; yea, to be adored. 

Gibbon, the skeptic, attributed the marvelous 
spread of His teaching to the convincing evi- 
dence of the doctrine itself, and the ruling pro- 
vidence of its great Author. 

Strauss, the atheist, pronounced Him The 
highest object we can possibly imagine with re- 
spect to religion, the Being without whose pres- 
ence in the mind, perfect piety is impossible. 

Eousseau, the deist, halted in his railleries 

158 



against religion, to affirm that, If the life and 
death of Socrates were those of a sage^ the life 
and death of Jesus Christ were those of God. 

Kant, the transcendentalist, granted that, // 
His Gospel had not previously taught the uni- 
versal moral laws in their full purity, reason 
would not have attained so perfect an insight of 
them. 

Ingersoll, the agnostic, stayed his ironies, 
against the supernatural, long enough to voice, 
as a meed to His worth. To that great and serene 
man I gladly pay the tribute of my admiration 
and my tears. 

Parker, the Eclectic, declared that He united 
in Himself the suhlimest precepts and divinest 
practices, thus more than realizing the dream of 
prophet and sage; arose free from all prejudice 
of his age, nation or sect; gave free range to the 
spirit of God in His breast; set aside the law, 
sacred and true, honored as it was, its forms, its 
sacrifice, its temple, its priests; put away the 
doctors of the law, subtle, irrefragible, and 
poured out a doctrine beautiful as the light, sub- 
lime as heaven, and true as God. 

Channing, the Unitarian, said. When I trace 
the unaffected majesty, which runs through the 
life of Jesus, and see him never falling below 
His sublime claims amidst poverty, and scorn, 
and in His last agony, I have a feeling of the 
reality of His character which I cannot express. 
I feel that the Jewish carpenter could no more 
have conceived and sustained this character, un- 

159 



der motives of imposture, than an infanfs arm 
could repeat the deeds of Hercules, or his un- 
awakened intellect comprehend and rival the 
matchless works of genius. 

In short, unto each of the deniers of His di- 
vinity, whether Corinthian or Ebionite, So- 
cinian or Artemonite, Alogian or Montanist, 
Arian or Monachist, Humanitarian or Ration- 
alist, Unitarian, or Evolutionist, the Man of the 
Cross, was always the The Incomparable, The 
Perfect. And most momentous, indeed, is this 
question of the character of Jesus. For, as even 
the cynical Strauss felt impelled to admit. De- 
hate, as to Christianity's truth, has narrowed, 
at last, into a discussion of the personality of 
Christianity's Founder. 

TRAITS OF JESUS. 

Again, the words of Jesus have served, for 
ages, as man's best standard for right; His 
deeds, as the world's highest precedents for 
good. He was wise, but not arrogant; dignified, 
but not proud; gentle, but not weak; gracious, 
but not familiar; genial, but not worldly; tem- 
perate, but not austere; firm, but not obstinate; 
brave, but not rash; zealous, but not impatient; 
severe, but not unkind ; majestic, but not 
haughty. 

He was at once ruler and servant. He was 
companion and disciple. He enacted love as a 
new law of action. He appealed but to the best 

160 



in human heart. He displayed His might only 
for others. He inspired the discouraged unto 
renewal of hope. He wept but in sympathy with 
sorrowing humanity. He wooed the innocent by 
the witchery of His Own innocence. He prayed, 
when dying, not for self, but alone for His mur- 
derers. He was, in short, the One lone personifi- 
cation, in all time, of the Golden Rule, and 
worthy the worship He demanded of earth. 

THE TEACHINGS OP JESUS. 

The teachings of the Master, were the Perfect. 
Even a Spencer afi&rmed them beyond the reach 
of evolution. And, of Himself, they were even 
more than a part, they were the whole. For, 
aside from the lessons given by His walk, no 
other taught as He taught, nor spoke as He 
spoke. Though too much engrossed with His 
Father's work, to think of the poetic, His tribute 
to the lilies, is the most exquisite metaphor in 
all literature. Though too much in the fierce 
conflict with sin, to think of rhetoric. His Ser- 
mon on the Mount, is the most wonderful ad- 
dress ever spoken. And though too much fired 
with zeal to win the world, to think of philoso- 
phic. His precepts, spanning life in its entirety, 
are the only flawless ones ever uttered. 

The parables He spake, are so apt, so 
quaint, that no other tongue has even assayed to 
imitate, much less to equal, them. The prayer. 
He taught His disciples, is so incisive, so inclu- 

161 



sive, that it has been exalted, by the commou 
thought of the centuries past, not only as the 
lone plea divinely fitted to be addressed unto 
Omnipotence, but as the one thing by far too 
holy to be changed or marred by humanity's pro- 
faning touch. And his one query, What is a 
man profited^ if he gain the whole world and 
lose his own soul? has done more to palsy the 
hand of greed than any other thought ever 
spoken into the ears of avarice. 

SUBLIMITY OF JESUS. 

The instances given, though striking, are not 
the exceptional among His teachings. For, no 
matter when, where, or the occasion He spoke, 
there was a like sublimity of statement, a sub- 
limity far transcending the possible with any 
other being ever upon the earth. 

And whether to Samaritan at the well, or to 
kneeling woman expectant of stoning, or to poor 
sufferer beseeching by wayside, or to twelve m 
the quiet and joy of seclusion, or to traitor when 
bidding Him forth to his purpose, or at prayer 
in the silence of lonely Gethsemane, or standing 
unmoved in presence of questioning Pilate, or 
asking forgiveness for those who had scourged 
Him and pierced Him, or crying to Father, 
heart-broken and anguished and dying, His 
words were ever so wondrous, so apart from the 
earth, that a heart must be stranger to feeling 
and dead unto thrill if unmoved, even yet, by 
their tenderness, terseness and beauty. 

162 



TEACHINGS OF OTHERS. 

Besides, the teachings of no one, save Jesus, 
are fitted to all times, peoples and climes. 

The Zend Avesta, of Zoroaster, was adapted 
alone to the ancient Persians; hence, as the lat- 
ter passed away, died also the religion of dual- 
ism. 

The Vedas, those wierd waifs begotten of 
Aryan thought, were peculiarly fitted to sway 
the Hindoos ! yet not, in fact, them all. For the 
vision of a single dreamer, moved millions from 
Brahma to Buddha, the latter in turn, being 
powerless to rule save where already enthroned. 

The Analects, of Confucius, so wise in part, 
so dead in all, could appeal to none but the Chi- 
nese, a people content to stand, for age upon 
age, gazing at the lifeless past, unthinking of 
the moving world about them. 

And the Koran, of Mahomet, so vague, so 
mystical, so impossible, could have found lodge- 
ment nowhere else, in all the earth, except with 
the Arabs, or among a people as cruel and lust- 
ful as are the unspeakable Turks today. 

ETHICS OF JESUS FOR ALL. 

The teachings of Jesus, on the other hand, 
were perfectly adapted to the needs of all. 
Even when dropped into the stony fields, of the 
Caesars, they quickly sprang and grew, if lodg- 
ing at all, unto characters rounded and beauti- 
ful. 

163 



Nor once, from Golgotha to now, has person 
lived, either too low or too high to be suited to 
the ethics of Jesus. His words, and His alone, 
are of character, so lowly, as to be adapted to 
basest of cannibal, fresh from his horrible feast ; 
yet, so exalted, as to be fitted to lifting to heights 
the profoundest, such splendid intellectuals as a 
John, a Paul, a Luther, a Pascal, a Newton, a 
Bunyan, a Dante, a Milton, as also the myriads 
of others long since placed, by judgment of 
earth, into the ranks of the world's immortals. 

ANCIENT RELIGION EXCLUSIVE. 

And, by ancient wisdom, religion was reserved 
alone to the few, the gift to the cultured only. 

Plato, philosophy's founder, affirmed that. It 
is not easy to -find the Father and Creator of ex- 
istence; and, when he is found, it is impossible 
to make him known unto all. 

And his famed disciple, Celsus, the subtle, 
sneered that. He must he void of understanding 
who can believe that Greeks and barbarians, in 
Asia, Europe, and Lybia, all nations to the ends 
Of the earth, can unite in one and the same re- 
ligion. 

And yet, as if to mock those words of the 
worldly wise, the teachings of Jesus do reveal, 
in glorious fulness, the Infinite Parent of being, 
alike to the high and the low, to the rich and 
the poor, to the wise and the foolish, in short, 
to humanity's all; and fashion and blend, as 
well, unto beautiful oneness of faith and of hope 

164 



and of love, not only the Greeks and barbarians, 
but all of the races of men, even those from con- 
tinent center to farthermost isles of the sea. 

JESUS THE IDEAL. 

So, alike, as Master and Man, Jesus was the 
Ideal. Nor has any one, no matter though de- 
votee of another faith, denied to Him a standard 
less exalted than the highest possible to the hu- 
man. Indeed, but recently, according to the 
press, the high priestess of Theosophy, declared 
Jesus and Siddhartha to have been the only per- 
fect beings appearing among men. And that 
this leader of the occult, should have awarded 
this meed of worth, to the One, is far from 
strange, for she herself is product alone of a 
Christian civilization. But the surprising is 
that she should have thought to award like 
praise to the other. For, as she knows full well, 
her own gifts of mind and of culture would have 
been utterly impossible to her had she been so 
unfortunate as to have been reared in the home 
of the Buddhistic cult she now so zealously af- 
fects. 

JESUS AND SIDDHARTHA. 

Besides, the teachings of Siddhartha are noth- 
ing short of offense to intelligence, parent, as 
they are, to superstitions so absurd and castes 
so wicked. Nothing more senseless could pos- 
sibly be than the placing of the Sage of Sakya, 

165 



according to whom, a person, to attain unto 
bliss, must not only live a life of practical self- 
murder, but pass through myriadic forms of ex- 
istence, these requiring, for their course, multi- 
plied millions of age-s, as equal of Him who said 
unto penitent thief. Today shalt thou he with 
me in Paradise. Fittingly, indeed, has Buddhism 
been defined, by St. Hillaire, as A spiritualism 
without a soul, a virtue without a duty, a moral 
without liberty, a charity without love, a world 
without nature and without God. As impos- 
sible to justly liken the Sage of Sakya to the 
Man of Nazareth as it would be to rank the ebon 
of midnight with the glory of noonday. 

THE RESURRECTION. 

The fear of the friends of Jesus, when seeing 
Him in hands of maniac mob, may, in part, be 
guessed by oaths of Peter. Love, and love alone, 
for love is ever the truest, had thought to follow 
Him, yet not anear. 

The grief of the friends of Jesus, when know- 
ing Him mocked and scourged and crowned and 
robed and crucified, was torture beyond por- 
trayal. Yet love, and love alone, for love is ever 
the bravest, dared to follow Him, if not anear, 
still well to the foot of the cross. 

And the woe of the friends of Jesus, when see- 
ing Him hanging there dead, like to malefactor, 
silent between thieves, was the agony that per- 
vades the soul when light of the life is gone, 
when hope of the heart is fled. And yet love, 

166 



and love alone, for love is ever the fondest, came 
softly there, and drawing the spikes from the 
hands and the feet, bore the wonderful mortal 
away to the tomb of the sorrowing stranger. 

And so the few faithful, for love is ever the 
faithful, went their way, dazed, desolate, discon- 
solate. True, He had bidden them to mourn 
not, for He would arise again the third day. 
But such words were too portentous for them to 
understand or scarce to hear. And so they went 
their way, weeping. 

Yet, mayhap, they somehow divined, vaguely, 
yet divined, that the One, over yonder, was, of all 
clay, the most royal. For, at His cry of agony, 
had not the sky scowled, and the earth quaked, 
and the temple reeled, and the graves gaped, and 
the dead waked? And was He not lying in 
state, in rocky chamber, with entrance stone- 
barred and with eagles of Kome to guard Him? 

But the King, for them, was dead. Nor, in all 
the earth, was there another for whom they had 
heart to shout. Long live the King! 

And so the friends of Jesus waited, waited 
nor knew they why, waited as soft the weary 
hours, slow-footed, crept sadly on and grew to 
days, to one, and two, and — 

But, hark! Behold: An angel came, with 
countenance lit with lightning, with raiment 
white as snow, wind-driven, and, then, by instant 
touch, laid all those eagles low, threw wide the 
chamber door ajar, when, lo, on couch of stone, 

167 



the Christ awoke, the while the stars of morning 
sang, and life, for the first, dared query of death, 
Where, where, is thy sting f 

And, then, what bliss, what ecstacj, disciples 
knew! For then to them the Master came, to 
sup, to dine, to hold commune, to counsel give, 
and way of life to show. And so they dreamed 
until full soon, nor yet too soon. He gave them 
glimpse of world beyond, as forth He went to 
glory. His before creation dawned. 

CHANGE IN APOSTLES. 

A belief in the resurrection of Jesus, wrought 
a change, instant and radical, in the character of 
each of the Apostles. 

Peter, the coward, became Peter, the brave. 
And, at Pentecost, and utterly uncaring of re- 
sults to himself, he stood in the presence of the 
very ones, before whom he had so recently 
quailed, and boldly charged them with the awful 
crime of having taken the Christ, with wicked 
hands, and crucified and slain Him. Nor could 
that charge be silenced save by nailing the 
Apostle to the cross and thus sealing his lips in 
death. 

And, by tradition's word, Thomas, the doubter, 
elected to die rather than to say that he had not 
placed his hands in the wounds in the Master's 
side. Tradition also affirms that, of the eleven 
Apostles, all but three suffered martyrdom in 
preference to saving life by the simple expedient 

168 



of denying the resurrection story. Even those 
three, one of whom was John the Beloved, gave 
all their remaining years to no other end than 
of proclaiming the Risen Lord. 

Nor could Paul, after that meeting on the way, 
be induced, or driven, or scourged, or stoned, 
into a retraction of that same story. So it may 
not be said, nor indeed has it ever been, that 
those witnesses, each having the fullest oppor- 
tunity of knowing the truth of that which he 
spake, purposely falsified regarding this one su- 
preme fact in the world's history. 

And yet, if Christ did not arise, not only were 
they, as Paul declared, liars against God, but 
liars so strangely insane as to die for the un- 
truth they told, a thing no other human being 
has ever done either before or since. 

CHANGE IN PHARISEES. 

Nor was this change peculiar alone to the 
Apostles. For, right in the city of the alleged 
marvel, and almost, too, in the salfsame hour of 
its asserted occurrence, thousands upon thou- 
sands, many of them doubtless of the very mob 
guilty of His death, stepped to the fore, life in 
hand, to accept the fact of the rising of Jesus. 

And, strange, the Pharisee entered no word of 
denial of the awful charge of the Christ murder, 
then so boldly hurled against him. Not only so, 
but he changed, in a day, from fierce and relent- 
less zealot to whipt and whimpering craven. 

169 



More, he had not the heart to deny the resurrec- 
tion, nor yet had he the courage to affirm the 
theft from the tomb. 

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE BODY. 

Yet that story, of the theft, is the only one 
ever offered, by disbeliever, for the disappear- 
ance of the body of Jesus. Still, the soldiers' re- 
port not simply could not have been true; but, 
when fairly considered, stands forth as a false- 
hood, doubtless procured to be made by those 
having dread to be charged with slaying the 
Christ. 

MESSIANIC HOPE. 

The Jews long had been taught to believe that 
a world conqueror would come and give them 
universal dominion. Years, in their course, had 
run, and this was the time to which prophesy 
pointed for that glorious day, for then had the 
scepter departed from Judah and a lawgiver 
from between his feet. So general, indeed, was 
this thought, that each of Israel's faithful kept 
place ever ready for the dining of Messenger, 
sent to herald the Mighty's appearing, should 
blessing be he happened that way. Indeed, 
Josephus, the sycophant, and Tacitus and Sue- 
tonius, the pagans, trace the revolt, and result- 
ant destruction of the Jews, largely to this Mes- 
sianic hope. 

170 



THE MESSENGER. 

A voice had rung in Judean wilds, Prepare ye 
the way of the Lord^ and make his paths straight. 
A multitude, breathless, had listened, and then, 
with all haste, had gone to the river to share in 
the rite denoting repentence. Unto common 
thought, Elias, the Messenger, was come. And 
so, full many an eye, of longing, was strained 
for glimpse of the Anointed of God. 

THE NAZARINB. 

Forth from Nazareth, a strange Being had 
gone. But a carpenter. He was the Master of 
sage-s. Untutored, He spake as man never spake 
before. Confessing Himself the Leader foretold 
He forbade the sword, gave unto Caesar the 
things that were Caesar's, and, when smitten on 
cheek, silently turned for another like blow. 
And yet, though, in truth, the lowliest of lowly 
and poorest of poor, He asserted Himself the 
King of kings and Lord of lords. 

MIRACLE RUMORS. 

And, of Him, most wonderful wonders were 
told. It was declared He had said that, in Him, 
were rest for the weary; joy for the mourning; 
life for the dying. It was claimed He had 
changed water into wine; made demons obey; 
given sight to the blind. It was asserted He had 
healed the sick; cleansed the leper; raised the 
dead. It was even reported He had walked the 
wave; hushed the wind; stilled the sea. 

171 



STRANGE CLAIMS. 

And then, to thought of Sanhedrist, this singu- 
lar Being went on to farthermost limits of 
blasphemy. He said, of Himself, Behold, a 
greater than Solomon is here. He affirmed 
himself the Light of the world; the Judge of the 
earth; the Savior of men; the equal of God. 
And then, as climax of all. He declared that, 
though He were dead, yet, upon the third day, 
would He again return unto life. Never before 
were words so strange, were claims so audacious. 
Jerusalem turned from Him, in horror, and be- 
came as a caldron, seething with hate. To 
Pharisee, His words seemed a dare. His claims 
a challenge to death. 

THE PASSOVER. 

The Passover was on. More than a million of 
pilgrims were there. The city was gorged with 
humanity. Even its roofs were beds. Through- 
out that living mass a thrill had run, perchance 
of nameless dread, at the ways of that Being of 
Mystery. His pretentions had set the teeth of 
desire at edge, and Pharisee hunger was keen for 
battle with death to begin. 

BATTLE WITH DEATH. 

The prayer, in the garden, had ceased. The 
kiss, of the traitor, had stung. The band, of the 
Leader, had fled. The crown, of the thorns, had 

172 



been worn. The shout, To the Cross, had been 
heard. The hands, of the blood, had been 
washed. The Lamb, to the wolves, had been 
loosed. The Doomed, to the wood, had been 
nailed. The plea, unto God, had been winged. 
The side, with the spear, had been pierced. The 
clay, to the rock, had been borne. The door, of 
the tomb, had been sealed. The troops, of the 
eagle, are guarding. The end, of the* battle, is 
nearing. Death Victor, a blasphemer perished 
was all. Death vanquished, a Nation had mur- 
dered the Christ. In dread, the Nation awaits. 
In awe, it prays Death to be Victor. 

ALLELULIA. 

Heads bared ! The Angel of the Lord is come. 
The seal breaks. The stone moves. And then 
— Look, O man ! Give shout, ye Hosts on High ! 
Death, Death the strong, is losing. And — Be- 
hold, O Earth! Swing wide ye gates of God! 
Alleluia! Death, Death the King, has lost. 

BODY NOT STOLEN. 

Who, in the light of reason, may think to as- 
sert that the body was stolen by disciples, or 
stolen at all? Such charge makes mock of in- 
telligence. In cannot be fact. Disciples dared 
not attempt such theft; too mighty their fear. 
Nor could they have compassed the deed; too 
many were there. The soldiers' report had mo- 
tive of ill, not truth. And Pharisees stamp it as 

173 



fiction; when, to charge of slaying the Christ, 
they cried in terror, Ye seek to bring this man's 
blood upon us. That it was false, then, palpably 
false, wickedly false, is clear, perfectly clear. 
More, if added of cause be desired for holding it 
so, it well may be found in answers implied, in 
answers demanded, to queries propounded be- 
low. 

RESURRECTION QUERIES. 

1. Dared soldiers sleep upon duty? 

2. Dared they admit it, even if so? 

3. Does not their act imply price? 

4. Does it not tell immunity, also? 

5. Why sleep, watching but 3 hours? 

6. Why not punish, if story true? 

7. Would all 60 sleep at one time? 

8. Would each, if asleep, not waken? 

9. How know body stolen, if asleep? 

10. How deny the resurrection, also? 

11. Why not Pharisee mention sleep? 

12. Why not even refer to soldiers? 

13. Why silent regarding the theft? 

14. Why fearful, if body were taken? 

15. Could theft have occurred then? 

16. Could it possibly on third day? 

17. Why was body not seen, if taken? 

18. Why was it not found afterward? 

19. How could disciples procure it? 

174 



20. How conceal it from multitudes? 

21. Why not Pharisees ask for body? 

22. Why did they not search for it? 

23. What brought hope to disciples? 

24. What gave to them such courage? 

25. Did they, by any act, show guilt? 

26. Did they die for known untruth? 

27. Who, but guards, could take body? 

28. Who, of earth, holds them guilty? 

BATTLE WITH PAGANISM 

But now the battle was on, waged by pagan- 
ism, to blot, from the memory of mankind, the 
tale of the Eisen Christ ; a battle destined to last 
all but three centuries, and to end, at last, in a 
triumph so complete, for the soldier of the 
cross, as to all but portend danger to the cause 
he espoused, by reason of the pride coming to 
him from his sweeping victory. 

CHRISTIAN FORTITUDE. 

Besides, he met the enemy with weapon, till 
then, new to combat, that of non-resistance. 
For, like to the Master when smitten on the one 
cheek, he turned the other. When danger be- 
came too imminent, he fled to catacomb, com- 
panion to beast. When a Nero made, of him, a 
lamp of flame, he sung of the Light of the World. 
When a Decius or a Diocletian drove him to 
doom, with teeth of iron clawing his back, he 
went with joy, for the Lord was waiting at the 

175 



end of the way. And, no matter how dread the 
torture, so resigned was he that the fiends, who 
gave him to anguish, made bitter complaint be- 
cause no moan could they wring from his lips, 
nor would he utter a pleading for mercy. 

TERTULLIAN^S SHOUT. 

The Spirit of the Christian, during all that 
terrible period, may not be better epitomized 
than in Tertullian's shout of defiance. Call us 
staked ones and fagoted ones, names derived 
from the posts to which we are hound and the 
wood wherewith we are hurned — this is the gar- 
ment of our wictory, our embroidered rohe, our 
triumphant chariot. 

FROM CROSS TO CONSTANTINE. 

The epoch, from Cross to Constantine, was 
scarce less filled with miracle than were the 
days when the Man of Sorrows went wandering 
in Palestine. To expunge its supernatural 
would leave it a riddle unsolved and unsolvable. 
But, with the miraculous there, all is plain, for 
then is manifest that hand of Omnipotence 
fashioned its ending. 

THE TEN PERSECUTIONS. 

Its ten great persecutions make it as black as 
infamy had power to paint it. The sword, then, 
was ever suspended over head of follower of 

176 



Jesus, and any Governor, in all the Empire, 
might cut the cord and let it fall. Christians 
were slaughtered, their books burned, their 
places of worship destroyed, their houses blotted 
from earth. 

THE MARTYROLOGIES. 

The martyrologies, written of those times, are 
too pitiable and terrible for perusal. The noble 
Paul, the aged Polycarp, the learned Justin, 
were alike victims to that era of evil. And, so 
murder, red murder, mad murder, went on, un- 
stayed, each despot, in turn seeking to make the 
misery, meted out by him, more atrocious, more 
diabolical, than that conceived by the demons 
before him. 

PAGANISM^ THE SERPENT. 

Paganism, like the dying serpent it was, 
strove ever, throughout that epoch so wild, to 
drive its venomed fangs deep into the veins of 
the one lone faith, in all the world, then either 
living or deserving to live. Constantly went 
Christians to death, each proclaiming the 
miracles and resurrection of Jesus. 

SEED OF THE CHURCH. 

And never may it be known the multitudes of 
the very worthiest, of earth, thus immolated 
upon the altars of envy and hate. Yet, despite 
all this constant depletion of the followers of 

177 



the Cross, the miracle the world beheld was that 
the martyrs' blood was seed from which sprang 
an ever increasing host into the depleted ranks. 
And true were the words of the skeptical Gibbon 
when he said that, during that era of evil, A 
pure and humble religion gently insinuated it- 
self into the minds of men, grew up in silence 
and obscurity, derived new vigor from opposi- 
tion, and finally erected the triumphant banner 
of the Cross on the ruins of the Capitol. 

EDICT OF MILAN. 

Even that the Edict of Milan was issued at all 
was not because Constantine became truly a 
Christian, for his deeds affirm him as mostly 
a heathen ; but it came solely for the reason that 
it seemed, unwise to him, man of affairs as he 
was, that a murderous few should be permitted 
longer to martyr the best of the realm he ruled. 
In short, Christianity's victory was due alone to 
the fact, as so graphically shown in Chenevaud's 
famed cartoon. The Toilers of the Catacombs, 
that the hands of believers had undermined the 
pagan throne, so of needs it fell. 

CHRISTIANITY LAWFUL. 

The instant of the granting of that Edict, 
Christianity became an ever recurring miracle 
of miracles. For then, at last lawful, it was 
moved by impulse born of freedom, to accom- 
plish the task of winning the world. And the 

178 



marvels, by it done, are so tremendous, that 
their recountal is no more possible than would 
be the numbering of the eyes of the night. 

CHRISTIAN MARVELS. 

It touched the conscience ; spoke to man of his 
neighbor; warmed the heart of the Roman; 
closed the temples of lewdness; stayed the hand 
of the Vandal; broke the ranks of the Moslem; 
claimed the Sabbath of rest; changed the dial of 
time; built beautiful homes; reared magnificent 
churches; erected munificent hospitals; founded 
asylums for friendless; furnished retreats for 
the aged; made the wife a queen unto honor; 
freed the slave from barbaric shackles; reached 
a hand to shield the downtrodden ; strove for the 
saving of the soul of the pagan; sent salvation 
to cannibal isles; took from the ruler and gave 
to the ruled; hushed the cannon where wounded 
were lying; taught the nations the lessons of 
mercy; changed the thought of a wondering 
world. 

THE GREATEST MARVEL. 

And farther still, and still more strange, it 
lives today, and yet shall live, and rules today, 
and yet shall rule, despite the numberless crimes, 
so cruelly done, in its great name, by demons and 
devils incarnate. In a word, great as the physi- 
cal marvels, wrought by the Master, the moral 
ones, caused by His life, have been infinitely 

179 



greater. And great as the effect of Ms teaching, 
in the realm of religion, its result, in secular 
world, has been infinitely greater. 

CHRISTIANITY'S ASSUMPTION. 

Again, it asserted its right to supremacy 
wherever was life. It searched the deed to find 
if love were its mainspring. It came to the 
home with counsel for child and for parent. It 
stood in the halls of State proclaiming the 
Golden Eule. It blazoned its name, by law of 
right, on each of history's pages. 

CHRISTIANITY'S CONQUEST. 

It claimed the thought of the builder, 
And, lo, to the crucified Jesus, 
A million of temples arose; 
It stirred the pulse of the poet. 
And, lo, at the feet of the Risen, 
The measure of genius lay; 
It moved the heart of the sculptor. 
And, lo, from the heart of the marble, 
The master of masters stept forth; 
It touched the hand of the artist. 
And, lo, by the spell of the easel. 

The canvas grew voiceful of Christ; 
It fired the soul of the singer. 
And, lo, to the praise of the Savior, 
Hosannas awakened the earth, 

180 



CHRISTIANITY LABORS. 

And still it labors. It wards the infant 
cradle. It marks the ways for steps of child- 
hood. It leads the one of honest toil by narrow 
path of duty. It seals the sacred troth with 
word, What God has joined^ as one^ not man 
should put asunder. It makes the earthly home 
the fittest type, that hearts may know, of that 
beyond. It makes the white-plumed hearse 
seem all but fair by plea, Suffer little children 
to come unto me. It robs the grave of half its 
dread by the wondrous claim, / am the resur- 
rection and the life. It gives to countless 
throngs, upon each holy day, the will to shout, 
with Miriam, Sing ye to the Lord, for he hath 
triumphed gloriously. And, best of all, it 
brings, to dulling sight, when lamp of life is 
burning low, a glimpse of bliss to be, of bliss su- 
preme, of bliss beside the King. 

LAW OF RELIGIOUS SURVIVAL. 

Supernaturalism lives; naturalism dies. Such 
is the law of survival in the world of religious 
thought. Christ, uncrowned of divinity, is 
Christ dethroned. However numerous those 
may be, holding Jesus but man, they produce, at 
best, but a decadent church. Modern Ceren- 
thianism, justly proud as it is of its culture, con- 
trives to sputter, in a few minor sockets, alone 
because it borrows a little of oil from the num- 
berless churches, by which it is girt, lifting aloft 
the Light of the World. 

181 



BELIEF IN FIRST MIRACLE. 

The momentous achievements of Christianity 
have come alone from a faith in the resurrection 
of Jesus. The crucified King could never have 
rallied His despondent followers, nor indeed 
have gained followers at all, except by creating 
belief that He no longer was dead. Without His 
victory over the grave, His words, though mar- 
velous, would never have induced the thought, 
with any human being, to die for them. What 
made them live, despite Pharisaic jeers and 
ages of martrydom, was the belief that Jesus 
Himself still lived; hence, as the grave did not, 
for Him, end all, neither would it do so with 
His adherents. 

KEY TO HISTORY. 

The Apostles possessed the teachings of Christ 
all the hours He lay in the tomb, as also the 
memory of all the miracles done; and yet this 
was far from enough to move them to stand up 
for Him, as a person, much less for His mere 
words. But the moment they saw Him, after 
the cross, in the fulness and glory of life, they 
were transformed into soldiers, ready for Him, 
to do or to die. Thenceforth, He became the 
Key to the history of earth. Then, indeed, as so 
eloquently said by Jean Paul Eichter, did the 
earth. Behold Eim lift, loith pierced hand, em- 
pires from their hinges, and turn the stream of 
centuries out of its accustomed channel. 

182 



MARTYRDOM COURTED. 

Nor once, from the incarnating, in disciples^ 
heart, of the fact of the resurrection, has the 
cause of Christ wanted for defenders, valiant 
and true, nor ceased its purpose to make con- 
quest of earth. So common the belief among the 
early Christians, as to the raising of Jesus, that 
those, in authority, in the church, had to use 
all possible means to prevent believers from 
actually courting martyrdom, moved by a de- 
sire to see the Master quickly. 

That this thought of the resurrection was uni- 
versal then, is not only proven by the writings 
of the Fathers, and conceded generally, but the 
conduct of the Christians, of those days, would 
be utterly irrational and inexplainable upon 
any other possible hypothesis. 

BUT FIRST MIRACLE REQUIRED. 

More-over, in the light of the wonders, affirm- 
ing Christ Deity Incarnate, all the marvelous 
achievements, of the cross, become perfectly 
plain. And well did Napoleon say, that, in the 
divine nature of Jesus, a wonderful explanation 
is found for the history of man. 

For the one fact, of the resurrection, made 
all that followed simply the natural. That is, to 
find ample cause for the whole of the great 
Christian movement, but this one marvel is 
needed, a wonderful one it is true, and yet but 
one, no more, and that, indeed, just such as the 

183 



world might well have longed, though undaring 
to hope, in view of the universal thought of 
mankind as to the life to be. 

SECOND MIRACLE. 

But, if the resurrection were not real, then 
another miracle, a second, and infinitely the 
greater, lifts itself to view, and neither logic 
nor reason may bid it be down. And, instead of 
being like to the first, but single, this second 
hovers over a brood of others, each, in turn, also 
the supernatural. So marvelous this second, 
Almighty Power is inadequate to have created 
it, human thought impotent to give it befitting 
rank. It is, in short, nothing less than the 
apotheosis of untruth, or deception glorified 
and made beautiful by the splendor of its own 
achievements. 

APOTHEOSIS OF UNTRUTH. 

For, if Christ did not arise, then a falsehood, 
that told of the resurrection, has not only run 
riot through the centuries, making conquests of 
intellects the choicest, but, despite its course 
of sin, has, by spell of its deceit, wrought more, 
for humanity's good, than all of the truths by 
humanity spoken. 

Indeed, to recount the wonders of worth, ac- 
complished by this untruth, if man so dare to 

184 



call it, would be to portray the whole of the 
progress of earth since the Master ascended on 
high. 

BROOD OF SUPERNATURALS. 

And this second, or parent, falsehood, has 
among its brood of supernaturals, these : 

THE YOKE : Christ bade the world to wear 
His Yoke. Hosts gave heed. And ever since 
that triumph morn. His faithful ones have 
slaved, with will, to draw the world within Hi& 
Realm of love. And yet, if He were not from 
God, of all impostors He was chief. Nor aught 
but ill could come to those who wore His yoke. 

But He was Truth. Nor yet, in lands, where 
thought is fair, could one be found to so deny. 
And good alone has come to human ox and plod- 
ding world because that yoke. For, where the 
neck has bent to bear it, there man has moved 
to nobler heights. 

THE CROSS : Christ bade the world to bear 
His Cross. Multitudes obeyed. And, ever since 
the Holy One was lifted high, the wood, that 
held Him there, has served as emblem fit for 
knightly crest, for martyr breast, for saint at 
rest. And yet, if He were less than all He 
claimed. He was but poor indeed. Nor had He 
gift to glorify the thing on which He died. 

But He was Truth. Nor yet, in all the earth, 
does mortal live who holds Him false. And, 
more, that sacred wood, so hateful once, so win- 

185 



ning now, was set by hand of love to mark the 
way that leads from life below to life above. 

THE WILL: Christ bade the world to learn 
of Him. His will was law. And ever since the 
hour, when first He spake in Nazareth, a world- 
ly throng, a thronging world, has joyed to hear 
the mnsic of His voice. And yet, if He were 
merely man. His heart held much of human sin. 
Nor could the erring world be led aright by 
counsel born of such. 

But He was Truth. Nor yet has person lived 
who dare would name Him sinner. And even 
those who hold Him man, nor more than man, 
accord to Him full meed of praise, and, joying 
much, cast flowers sweet before His feet, and 
wing His fame as teacher. 

THE CALL: Christ bade the world to come 
to him for rest. Earth paused to hear. And 
ever since He spake those words, so more than 
kind, the feet of care, so stained, so bruised, have 
upward toiled to Him. And yet, were He alone 
of earthy mold, His call came forth from guile. 
Nor may the soul, sworn with sin, find rest 
where dwells deceit. 

But He was Truth. Nor yet, in all the ages 
done, has skeptic one, nor cynic one, found aught 
in Him to blame. And, from the hour He gave 
that call, to woo the weary world, unbroken 
hosts have gone, with song, to gain, with Him, 
their rest. 

186 



THE LIGHT : Christ claimed to be the Light 
of the World. All eyes beheld. And ever 
since the Voice Divine proclaimed Him Son of 
God, the sky has smiled a sweeter smile, and 
hearts have joyed with deeper joy, for earth has 
known a Savior. And yet, if He were naught 
but child of sin. He was, of egotists, the one su- 
preme. Nor had He will to rout the black of 
ill. 

But He was Truth. Nor yet have lips, 
though eviPs own, linked once His name with 
egotist. Besides, if all were asked, who 
scorned or mocked His claim to superhuman, 
not one could think to say he cared to dwell 
where fell no rays from Jesus. 

AND GOD : Christ claimed to be at one with 
God in might and wisdom. All hearts were 
thrilled. 

And ever since that long ago. 

When He spake of His coming glory, 
A spirit tells, to souls below. 

Of the truth of that awesome story. 

And yet, if He were not the One Divine, He 
was, of blasphemy, the all in all. Nor could 
the world, by mortal thought, know full His 
sin. 

But He was Truth. Nor yet has height nor 
depth laid to His charge the awful crime of 
blasphemy. Nay more, not once in haunts of 
sin, nor still in felon circle, would one be sure 
from harm if there he dared afi&rm that Christ 

187 



was thus of evil. Still more, each day displays 
but added proof of the wonders of His will, and 
brings more near, to earthly sight, the Throne 
of Power whereon He sits to rule the world. 



THE DILEMMA. 

And so reason stands facing the great 
dilemma as to which to accept as true, the stu- 
pendous miracle of the resurrection, or the un- 
thinkable miracle of infinite good resulting from 
infinite falsehood. And one of these it must ac- 
cept, it may not shirk this duty. 

FIRST MIRACLE SCARCE CREDIBLE. 

To adopt the first demands full much of 
credulity. For, despite the hope of life to be, 
no one, but Christ, has stept to mortal view yon 
side the bounds of death. Still, if reason bows 
to this lone wonder, the stress, for it, is done. 
For then all else, of Christian marvels, though 
wondrous strange, are but the normal. Farther, 
not to concede this first, leaves all these mar- 
vels reft of cause, and this itself, to honest 
thought, would seem astounding miracle. 

REJECTING FIRST ADOPTS SECOND. 

To deny the fact of the resurrection adopts, 
perforce, the second marvel, that of infinite 
good resulting from infinite falsehood. . For pen 
has written deep, alike in heart and history, the 

188 



myriadic wonders, for betterment of earth, 
wrought by that tale of the Eisen Christ. And 
that one story, so fair if be so false, has worked 
far more for cure of human hurts, and more for 
lift of fallen world, than all of fact by mortals 
told. 

ANOTHER BROOD. 

Besides, to hold it false, presents, to instant 
view, this other brood of miracles, each of which 
is wonder more than would the rising be of 
countless dead. 

The One supremely lowly, was the one su- 
premest egotist. 

The One supremely truthful, was the one su- 
premest impostor. 

The One supremely faithful, was the one su- 
premest hypocrite. 

The One supremely holy, was the one su-, 
premest blasphemer. 

WHICH OF THE TWO. 

Placed, then, fronting the two major miracles, 

The Resurrection, and 
The worth of Untruth, 

one or the other of which must be accepted, it 
cannot be but that reason will, under the very 
law of its being, elect to adopt the lesser of the 
twain, and looking, by faith, to the Crucified 
One, cry out, in ecstacy : 

189 



Blessed he His glorious name forever; and let 
the whole earth he filled with His glory. Behold 
the Lamh of God which taketh away the sin of 
the world. 

And there shall he no curse any more; and the 
throne of God and the Lamh shall he therein; 
and His servants shall serve Him; and they shall 
see His face; and His name shall he on their fore- 
heads. 

And there shall he night no more; and they 
need no light of lamp, neither light of sun; for 
the Lord shall give them light; and they shall 
reign forever , and ever. 



190 



FORCE TO GOD 



Force to God 



The universe affirms a God. Height and 
depth display intelligence. Earth and sky por- 
tray wisdom. Nature reveals control. Realms, 
countless as human heart-beats, are close at 
hand. Laws, myriadic as the years of eternity, 
receive obeisance. 

Step into yonder garden plot. There the one 
soil is warmed by the one sun, thrilled by the one 
air, blessed by the one rain, tilled, perhaps, by 
the one hand. And yet, in bounds thus lowly, 
multiplied kingdoms lie, multiplied forces ply. 

And countless are the blades beheld. To 
casual view they seem alike. Add thought to 
sight, and differences appear. Aid vision with 
lens, and contrariety is seen to be the law of 
their existence. To final analysis, each stands 
as entity begotten by segregate force. 

And above each are snuggling vines; and 
upon each one are glowing leaves. And here, once 
more, as affirmed by the blades, variance reigns 
supreme. For no inch of the sinuous length, nor 
one of the manifold leaves, has like or counter- 
part elsewhere. 

193 



And blades and vines have numberless neigh- 
bors. These are standing, it may be beside them ; 
crowding them closely, perchance; assuredly 
with elbows akimbo. And each of these is there, 
as well, pursuant to a law alone its own. 

Of life, order is potency chiefest, existence the 
chiefest desire. And so, though vagrant the 
plant, it heeds to the rule and lives by the law 
assuring survival. Here, tokens of life are lifted 
aloft by the one; secretly hidden in earth by 
another ; lifted in part, buried in part, by a third, 
as if with concern to render the future the 
doubly assured. 

Moreover, these prophecies of survival are as 
varied, in form, as the manifold causes by which 
they have come. For, this unity of soil, and of 
sun, and of air, and of rain, acting pursuant to 
laws entered only on high, evolve fruitage of 
colors, ranging from the white of the wind-whipt 
snow to the red of the heart's rich blood. 

Look again. There, from that one soil, 
warmed by the one sun, thrilled by the one air, 
blessed by the one rain, and tilled, perhaps, by 
the one hand, yet other forms of being have an- 
swered unto calls of force. And, unlike those 
having utility for end, these have esthetic pur- 
pose alone. 

Turn to the azure-eyed bluebell, for there, in 
its gaze, is a story of heavenly constancy. Peer 
into depth of lady's slipper, for there is a beauty 
as dainty as vision may know. Stoop to the 
royalist pansy, for there, upon velvet, a painter 

194 



lias pencilled Ms dreamings. Bend to the sancti- 
fied marigold, for there is a glory befitting the 
sainted Madonna. Kneel unto heavenly rose, for 
there is the bud of the stake, God's cheer unto 
Zillah, the maiden. And then consider that each 
of those wonders, of life, is a child to the riddle 
of force, with the mode of its dress, and the 
colors it wears, fashioned before it was born. 

And yonder is the morning glory, that Belle 
of Aurora, glowing and blushing and wooing, 
with chalice of nectar at heart for the busy-bee 
lover. And there is the sunfiower, that Parsee 
so faithful, watching the lord of the sky, even 
from his chariot's appearing, in east, till golden- 
capt driver is hidden by hills of the west. And 
there is the four o'clock, that wanton of fairy- 
world ring, sleeping till wane of the day, then 
donning a skirt like nymph of the steed and pois- 
ing like sylph of the wire. And here is the night- 
blooming cereus, that nun so esthetic, exotic 
from Garden of Eden, shunning the gaze of the 
world, coming to gladden the gloom, unveiling 
alone when expiring. And then consider that 
each of those marvels of being, though of par- 
entage in common with all, is of mood thus 
strange, and of grace thus rare, as a gift of a 
force to the others unknown. 

Look once more. There, in that humble plot, 
with its oneness of soil and of sun and of air and 
of rain, are numberless forms of animate life, so 
many, in truth, not eye of mortality may behold 
them all. And these, too, have ends in variance, 

195 



for some have motive for good, some seem pur- 
posed for ill, some show esthetic design, while 
others are nature's enigma. A moment pause to 
note them. 

And there is the ant, with its village defined; 
its dwelling ornate; its statute severe; its army 
unmatched; its dairy unique. And there is the 
butterfly, that glory of the worm; that vagrant 
of the lawn; that idler of the field; that emblem 
of the soul ; that spirit of the dead. And here is 
the bee, master of angles and lines; threader of 
compassless wilds; servant, by choice, unto toil; 
vassal to queen of its will ; communist, the wisest 
of time. And yonder is the dragon fly, wizard of 
the air ; meteor of the wing ; fleetest of the earth ; 
trebling the pace of the swallow; tacking and 
backing, full speeding; cutting the zigzags of 
lightnings; mocking the laws of momentum; 
viewing the world ways through 50,000 windows, 
And then consider that each of those beings, so 
wondrous, is the product of a force, unmoving 
save alone in its realm. 

Look, then, into wider world. There also di- 
versity is the law unto unity. For, throughout 
the whole of nature's immensity, variant forces 
have wrought unto ends of variance. And, wher- 
ever, throughout all space, the thought of the 
finite wanders, variety abounds, infinite beyond 
the gift of tongue to portray. 

Behold omnipotent wideness. There, in that 
vault of vaults, that height of heights, that depth 
of depths, worlds race by worlds, suns by suns, 

196 



systems by systems, eternities by eternities. To 
gaze into heaven's kaleidoscope, vision surfeits at 
splendors unspeakable, reason stumbles at 
beauties unthinkable, fancy staggers at marvels 
undreamable. Distances there, stretch so mighti- 
ly away and beyond, and beyond and away, that 
the wisdom of ages falls prone, upon face, reach- 
ing and reaching for ultimate end. 

And there, mazes of forces, forces unmeasured, 
burden the brain with their wonders. The earth 
hurries or lags as need there may be for its speed- 
ing. The moon gives forth its power to waken 
the tides of the ocean. Jupiter, the mighty, en- 
robes its satellites with garments of variant hues. 
Saturn, the distant, is circled by arms of its chil- 
dren. Comets rush in and away, mysterious, 
defiant, resplendent. And so, wherever the 
thought may turn, in all of nature's expanse, 
multiplied forces abound, multiplied forces sur- 
round. 

And of all the children of force, gravitation is 
the mightiest begotten. For, although itself but 
effect, so nearly does it come unto cause, that a 
severance line, twixt it and its parent, only 
Omnipotent eye may discern. Muse upon it for 
a moment. 

It is the grasp of the earth having matter in 
clutch. It is the strength of the sun holding 
planets in thrall. It is the string of the swing 
whereby universe is swung. It is the perimeter 
of ring for races on high. It is the Infinite Hand 
leading chaos to course. 

197 



And yet, despite its unspeakable power, gravi- 
tation is constantly mocked by others of the 
children of force. The tiny bladelets pry them- 
selves loose from its arms. The giants of Cali- 
veras lift haughtily heavenward their thousands 
of tons regardless its might. The smiles of the 
sunlight recoax to the clouds the waters that 
fell at its beck. The masterful eagle, first heed- 
ing its call, remounts to the skies, in riotous 
might, unmoving of wing. The heavenly lark, 
unminding its spell, flits, in the morn, to em- 
pyreal heights, for rapturous song. In short, 
monarch, as it is, of matter, and chiefest, as it is, 
of the universe forces, it is itself forever and ever 
defied. 

Man, for the first, beheld, amazed, the in- 
finite results of forces. He divined, as well, the 
absolute need for adequate causes behind them. 
And then, with him, desire was strong to master 
the riddles of power. Hence, reason, atiptoe, 
went out, from beginning, to seek and to solve 
the unknown. Nor matter the age, thought ever 
assayed to trace the dim trail leading backward 
to origin. 

And here lies the line, one never yet crossed, 
dividing the man from the beast. The ape of cap- 
tivity now, as little has reason as had its an- 
cestor of the ark. Place mirror before it, and its 
chatters will tell of its wrath at the grimace 
the refiection discloses. Train it to the full, and 
nothing of lift will its progeny gain. The reach 

198 



of its brain today will be that of its brain to- 
morrow; and the reach of its brain tomorrow 
will be that of its brain forever. 

Not thus with man. Trace him to cave or to 
wild. See him ! Low-browed he may be, brutish 
may seem. Yet, from his windows of soul, peers 
forth inquisitive thought. Speculation, that tell- 
tale of reason, yet lurks and gleams in his eyes. 
Simple the dream that he dreams, yet a dreamer 
of dreams is he. And the height, where he rests 
him at eve, is the point of new climbing next 
morning. Should he now but reach to the tree 
tops, in time he will reach to the stars. 

Luther said well, to worship was to bow. For 
homage calls for yielding up of self. And man 
was born to worship. As surely as the needle 
points to star, his face is upward turned. Nor 
may this yearning go from human heart. At- 
traction is no more a law to matter than worship 
is a law to being. And, like the other, it reigns 
a force, silent, persuasive, irresistible. It holds 
the soul with secret grasp, mighty if soul be 
much, puny if soul be so. As light the task to 
kindle the fires in the depth of the moon, or to 
fan the flames from the face of the sun, as to 
wrest, from the earth, this essence divine, the 
omnipotent spirit of worship. 

And Force was first declared by man as Cause. 
For though itself unseen, itself unsolved, all 
things declared its presence, all things portrayed 
its glory. By deeds, it seemed the very spring of 
all; by gifts, the very chief of nature. To 

199 



thought, it formed the bud, the bloom ; the wood, 
the wild; the rock, the rill; the vale, the vault; 
the sea, the sky ; the sun, the stars ; the years, the 
universe. And so, unto Force, an altar was 
reared, and there the suppliant knee, for the first, 
was bent, and penitent face, for the first, was 
raised, to offer, in awe, the gift of the heart, the 
mysterious tribute of worship. 

And strange the thing thus honored first with 
worship. For though, while close at hand, not 
once it stept to view. Though all, from worm to 
world, revealed its reign, it reigned unseen. 
Though sound of breeze and brook, and roar of 
wind and wave, and quake of mead and mount, 
made known its presence, when sought it was 
not found. Though every way, by reason trod, 
led to its throne, no throne was seen, no voice de- 
clared dominion. And though anear its feet, 
the altar stood, where orison was winged, no 
heed it gave, nor smile bestowed, nor blessing 
spake to suppliant. And Force was Mystery. 

Yet man still lingered there at foot of altar. 
Himself though feeble, he reasoned well of pow- 
er, well its splendid gift. And saw he, too, 
that, willed it so, the grasses stirred ; the leaflets 
waved ; the flowers blushed ; the zephyrs strayed ; 
the tempests charged; the lightnings leaped; the 
thunders roared; the oceans heaved; the moun- 
tains rocked; the peoples passed. Yet knew he 
not the wondrous All itself was mere effect. Nor 
could he know, so dulled his sense, he had not 
even touched the hem of Cause. And so, enigma 

200 



as it was, and careless, stern and ruthless. Force 
seemed to Mm a thing supreme, a thing to wor- 
ship. And long, with soul content, he knelt to 
majesty of might. 

But man, in time, awearied of such service. He 
saw the thing, to which he bent, not less was 
cruel than was kindly. And, too, its deeds, on 
every hand, seemed ever more complex, ever more 
perplexing. He grew, at last, to doubt them one, 
to doubt their single grouping. The very vast- 
ness, of the thing adored, confused him. He came 
to yearn for forms to serve of simpler guise, of 
gentler mould, more like to self. And then, for 
such, he sought. When, lo, unnumbered powers 
thronged about, eacii one, but bent, in lieu there- 
of, to forces many. And polytheistic thought 
had then its sway. 

Of forces seen, by man, himself was first. All 
else, of cause perceived, with will its own, was 
of the brute and brutish. With self the chief of 
cause beheld, man reasoned source, akin to self, 
behind each act whose spring was hidden. For 
true, as said by sage of old, the dream is like 
the dreamer. And, were a horse to dream a god, 
the god, so dreamed, a horse would be. And so, 
for every deed by force revealed, man dreamed 
a cause imbued with human will. And hence the 
pantheon, his thought conceived, was rife with 
airy fancies, with fancies good and ill, and mat- 
tered not the forms invoked, nor if grotesque, nor 
mighty, each showed the trace of human touch, 
each told its human parent. 

201 



And the law still held, of self in the dream, 
all the way up the heights of culture. From the 
sands to the fanes, from the wilds to the marts, 
each being called, from the phantom world, 
traced line of blood to its maker. Besides, the 
law was one, nor broken in the march of the ages, 
that, countless as the actors were, thus sum- 
moned from the realms of fancy, but one, unto 
each, had a sovereign will, but one held a sov- 
ereign scepter. And above, and about, and be- 
neath, was life ; was abounding life. And though 
to man, the whole was mystery, himself 
was also mystery. Nor was the life without, a 
riddle else than was the life within. And so, he 
dreamed the one akin to other, and dowered each 
with attributes in common. And, too, as force re- 
sponds to force, and like to like, he sagely 
dreamed each form of life had gift to sway the 
other. 

The woods were God's first temples. Thus Bry- 
ant sang, thus nobly sang. For, by the chase, 
man best might live; and chase was best in for- 
est. And so, where prey was most, was first his 
home; and where was home, was first his wor- 
ship. Nor was it strange he there should give 
first homage. As there, of all the earth, is haunt 
most like to spirit. For there the temple floors 
are velvet soft, with rest for weary feet. The 
stately limbs are lifted high as if beseeching 
heaven. The colonnades stretch out and on with 
spell to woo the worshipper. There songsters 
nest, in love, and voice ecstatic carols. The 



zephyrs touch harmonic strings and wake divin- 
est benisons. The choral winds stalk down the 
aisles and wing sublimest symphonies. The very 
storms, when there they charge, make known 
Almighty power. And forest hush, so often 
there, is lone a silent prayer. Aye, that poet 
seer might well have sung. The woods are God^s 
best temples. 

The Indian, that child of the wilds, conceived 
the human in all. By him, man, in a raven's 
form, winged to the realms of the eagle, and stole 
therefrom the sun, and the moon, and the stars, 
and the fire, and the waters. Keturning, he gave 
the sun and the moon to the sky, the stars he 
flung to the night, the fire he threw to the woods, 
the waters he dropt to the vales. And man. in 
the guise of a cloud-hidden bird, with thunder- 
ing wings and a lightning glance, is the spirit of 
the storm, the keeper of the rain, the restorer of 
the air, the preserver of the plants. The mis- 
chievous crow is a wayward child, transformed 
for running away. The crown-tufted jay is the 
medicine dunce, with the queer roached hair. 
The high-leaping deer is the double-tongued 
knave, with a knife in his heel. The wan-faced 
moon is the maiden drowned, the father's pride, 
the wind's betrothed. The big round sun is the 
daylight ball by the giant's hand each morning 
tost. The coo of the dove is the cry, in the wild, 
of the bear-fearing boy. The croak of the frog 
is the call, for his bride, of the headstrong son. 

203 



The moan of the pine is the lovers' plaint for the 
sweetheart lost. The wail of the wood is the de- 
mon's call to the tribes of the imps. 

In a word, the day and the night, and the 
rocks and the trees, and the hush and the breeze, 
and the flash and the crash, and the bird and the 
beast, each told, to the child of the wild, of self; 
each spake, to his heart, of the human. And, 
granting these fancies reached not to religion, 
they, at least, were the highest his thought might 
go. And, out of them all, with their quaintness, 
their weirdness, their rudeness, their sternness, 
loomed ever and aye some power most potent of 
all, a hint, if no more, of a oneness of rule, a 
sign, a suggestion, of God. 

Man stood in flower world. Here waved the 
leaf ; here swayed the stem ; here swelled the bud ; 
here blushed the bloom. And each was fraught 
with life, with life akin to human. The faithful 
crocus drew the bolt and swung the door of 
spring. And Zephyr, chancing there, went in to 
wake the flowers. But more than one already 
then was up. For Cowslip had arisen at the 
nudge of roguish Pixy. And Daisy, too, vnth 
key of gold, had loosed the gates of Day. While 
forth, from snowy bed. Arbutus coyly trailed, 
lisping soft, / love thee. Yet Zephyr, gently call- 
ing, tript on from cot to cot. And where he went 
the laggards rubbed their eyes and peeped. And 
all was life; and beauty graced the scene. 

And man saw more. For Hyacinth, Apollo's 
own, sprang up from blood of youth. The tear 

204 



of Love was changed to Rose, the tear of Eve to 
Lilj. The Fleur-de-Lis, the knightly bloom, 
came forth from lips of prayer. The Foxglove, 
lined with pointed lace, was gift of Sainted 
Mary. The hapless spouse, through hate of 
nymph, became the bleeding Lotus. The hag, 
with evil eye, was changed to thorny Haw. The 
wicked witch, with draught of ill, to deadly 
Nightshade grew. Yet all was life; and beauty 
graced the scene. 

Yet more saw man. For Heather served as 
horse for fairy. Poppy bent with kiss for maid- 
en. Peony stayed the tread of tempest. Laurel 
hushed the; voice of thunder. Tulip offered cup 
of glory. Love-in-the-mist concealed a satan. 
Alyssum banished thoughts of anger. Hesperia 
sang divinest vespers. Rose, in red, prest lips 
for silence. Tuberose stept to throne of dark- 
ness. Mandrake stalked on feet of evil. Geran- 
ium pomped in prophet's garb. Forget-me-not 
gave thought of Eden. Amaranth told of life 
eternal. While baby spirits, borne above, be- 
strewed the earth with flowers. And all was 
life; and beauty graced the scene. 

And then man mused. He walked, by thought, 
through flower world. He gauged, by thought, 
the whole. He dreamed a force, a subtle force, 
behind each vagrant there. He dreamed, as well, 
each nodding one had soul attune with Zephyr. 
For, but he passed, nor giving more than lover's 
sigh, each lifted face and blushed, each scattered 
fragrance on his trailing robes. 

205 



And man mused more. He saw, by thouglit, 
the flower world was wrought to wondrous sym- 
metry. No strife the variant forces waged. Each 
lived at peace with other. Each loved the touch 
of other. And so he dreamed a force, a blending 
force, a woman force, supreme within that world. 
And Flora then, the Zephyr's pride, the Zephyr's 
bride, he throned the Queen of all. While little 
ones in morn of May, with dance and song gave 
worship. And thought to God was turning. 

Man roamed the forest. Nor less his way was 
wierd than wild. For scenes grotesque were ever 
close at hand. And forms uncouth stood forth 
in countless numbers. The monarch trees, so 
great, so calm, were dark, and stern and brawny. 
The mighty limbs, so gaunt, so grim, reached out 
as if defiant. The serpent vines, with stifling 
hug, crawled up to topmost branches. The 
mistletoe, with leeching lips, drank deep from 
veins of oaks. The leaves, those waifs of van- 
ished years, lay there as rotting mould. The 
light, that filtered down to earth, had look of 
glaring eyes. The dark defiles held tawny beasts 
that drank from throats of deer. And if, be- 
times, the winds stole in, betimes they charged 
with wrath. And awesome was the forest; and 
fitful were its moods. 

And man, in time, was one with forest. He 
grew to crave its wooing wierdness, its winning 
wildness. He came to share its every spell, it 
came to own his every gift. Its lights and leaves, 
its lyres and loves, its brooks and boughs, its 

206 



smiles and storms, to him alike were human. 
And so, with self, he dreamed it mortal spirit. 
To him, the Almond tree was faithful wife be- 
moaning truant husband. The Bay, by poets 
sung, was maid disguised from ardent suitor. 
The Fir, was but despondent one, by goddess 
stayed from self-destruction. The Cypress was 
from Pluto's gate, a gift proclaiming death eter- 
nal. The Banyan was from soil with Adam, the 
high-arched fane where angels knelt. The Haw- 
thorn was the dread of the demons, the guard at 
the doorway, the sentinel standing by little one's 
bed. The Oak was the gift of the gods ; the aider 
of men; the builder of faith; the giver of hope; 
the emblem of love; the power of truth. The 
Ash was the glory of Thor ; the haunt of the ser- 
pent; the perch of the eagle; the tryst of the 
squirrel; the source of humanity; the Universe 
Tree. And forest limb held sunny sprite; and 
gnarly knot held ireful imp; and twisted trunk 
held struggling soul. 

Again man mused. He saw that force was 
there aside from force of forest. For, did the 
breeze but sigh, the leaves grew all atremble. 
And, did the winds but rave, the trees grew tense 
with passion. And so this force, of kindly mood, 
he dreamed was gracious Zephyr. While force, 
that wrought the trees to wrath, he dreamed was 
King Aeolus. 

And more he mused. He felt that life was 
there aside from life of forest. For though the 
deeds beheld gave proof of countless doers, the 

207 



whole obeyed a single will, proclaimed a single 
Ruler. Besides, this Force, this masterful 
Force, appeared, to him, the human. Then Pan, 
unseen, he dreamed the god of nature and gave 
him viewless throne. And thought was wending 
upward. 

Man loved the waters. For this, and more: 
They gemmed, at eve, the breasts of bending 
blades. They hung, at morn, to lips of bursting 
buds. They crept, a joy, from beds of snowy 
white. They stole, agleam, from paths of mossy 
green. They ran and romped adown the stony 
slopes. They purled and swirled in depths of 
laughing leas. They lagged and lounged where 
dozed the dreamy marsh. They came, in time, 
to river. 

And, too, man feared. For waters blent. They 
grew to one. They gathered might. They came 
to know their majesty. They rose to insolence 
of pride. They mocked the barriers set them. 
They raced, a ruthless, stayless horde. They trod 
and tramped the fields to wastes. They swept 
to ocean. 

And man was moved yet more. For this : The 
waters pulsed. They basked in silver. They 
tranced with splendor. They grew to grandeur. 
They seemed infinitude. Then they changed. 
They told of danger. They heaved with anger. 
They surged in passion. They leaped, at trum- 
pet blast, and thundered gauge of battle. They 
rushed, with demon shouts, and charged the 
stony strongholds. They lashed with brawny 

208 



arms; they beat with naked fists. They shook 
their frothy manes; they gnashed their gleam- 
ing teeth. They raved; they roared; they 
ravened. They slew the shrieking foe ; and then, 
for sport, tost high the slain. And when, to full, 
their wrath was gorged, they dropt the dead to 
underworld, or let the corpse lie, to rot, on vul- 
ture rocks. And wails arose of spirits lost. 

And waters were, to man, yet more than in- 
spiration. For though a cause for dream, they 
ranked a need to life as well. They smiled ; they 
wooed ; they told to him of mystery. He marked 
their every phase of mood; if kind as love, if 
fierce as hate. And mattered not the glimpse he 
caught, he saw, in all, the touch of human. Their 
gifts of grace, their grants of good, their acts of 
awe, their deeds of dread, seemed tinged of mor- 
tal spirit. He saw them race to gain the depths, 
on eager quest, the sport of forces not their own. 
He also knew they climbed to cloud and scaled 
to height by dint of might beyond themselves. 
And so, of these, those powers unseen, he con- 
jured fancies, fancies strangest thought had 
known. 

He dreamed, for waters, countless rulers. By 
him, each spring and fount, each rill and brook, 
each stream and lake, had one or more its own. 
The boundless deep appeared a mighty serpent, 
encircling, in its coil, the lands and seas. Where 
waters smiled, divinest daughters held the sway ; 
where scowled, satanic monsters claimed con- 
trol. And where, for human weal, the waters 

209 



wrought, not they so willed, but Naiads or 
Nereids, or Oceanides, those nymphs so fair and 
gracious ; and where, for woe not theirs the guilt, 
but wrong of Harpies, or of Gorgons, or of 
Typhon, or of others of the demon clans. 

Man saw the world, he dreamed, was framed 
to discord. He knew the monsters and the 
nymphs invoked were born opposed. And, too, 
he saw the river charge the deep, and wave make 
war on wave. He heard the swish of sabers. He 
felt the jar of meeting. And, lo, he saw, when 
once they clashed, they moved to common pur- 
pose. And they were one. Then quick he felt 
some potent might, some single will, had caused 
the blending. And soon he saw the need of one 
Supreme. 

And then, by thought, he conjured Neptune 
from the skies, and crowned him mighty god. For 
realm, he dreamed him whole of water world. 
For couch, he spread for him the billows. For 
boat, he sought for him a shell of pearly white- 
ness. For steeds, he harnessed him the dolphins, 
those racers of the seas. For arms, he furnished 
him the trident, the triple wand of might. For 
train, he marshalled all the hosts that stalk the 
vasty deep. For herald, he summoned kingly 
Triton to sound the trumpet conch. And these 
his power gifts; He strode the realm, he ruled, 
by steps but three. He smote the seas, and 
islands rose to greet him. He walked the lands, 
and mountains quaked about him. He glanced, 
and clouds were lit by lightnings. He spake, and 

210 



thunders bellowed from the vault. He willed, 
and torrents charged the earth. He frowned, 
and clash of rulers ceased. And his the will that 
blent the water world to oneness. Then thought 
went winging Godward, anear Creator's throne. 

Man dwelt in Egypt. And all about was awe- 
some. The land itself, a gruesome sphinx, was 
wordless. The Nile, his hope, his hoard, was 
silent. Its source, its torrid clime, was mystery. 
As soft its flow as pace of sunlight. Its depth be- 
times grew dark; again seemed tinged with 
blood; and then again was green. And change- 
ful were its moods. But now, it wound, by ser- 
pent trail, to northern lair. And now, it rose, 
with sullen mien, and gulfed the panting plain. 
And now, appeased, it slunk away, and in its 
wake lay treasure. 

And strange indeed was Egypt. No forests 
spread their sheltering arms. No songsters 
winged their roundelays. The Sacred Ibis dozed 
in oozy marsh. The crocodile beguiled unwary 
prey. On either hand the hills were ranked, and 
gashed and gaunt and grim. And close behind 
were simoon sands, with breath of fiery furnace. 
And though no soothing shadows fell from kind- 
ly clouds, the ghastly fogs, in ghostly white, 
stole out and up from river. When night was 
come the stately stars stood forth in solemn con- 
clave. And man himself grew awesome. 

Man loved the Nile. To him its flood were 
tears of Isis, the tears of love for lost Osiris. It 
held, or so it seemed, a magic will, with gift to 

211 



woo and conquer. For burning wastes made way 
before it; and deserts blossomed where it wan- 
dered. And mighty ages knelt beside it; and 
storied empires told its glory. Its touch had 
healing; its smile gave plenty; its very frown 
was thing commanding worship. And where it 
went, was life, was teeming life, and only life; 
for death itself was life. And man, divining 
much, knew self immortal. 

And man divined yet more. He peered behind 
effect for cause, and glimpsed a wonder scene. 
He saw, and well, that force, in changeful moods, 
had place in all of being. And, keener-eyed than 
ever yet was pantheist, he saw that nature's self 
was less than Cause, was not divine, but place, at 
most, for deities. And life he found of myriad 
forms, of numberless shades, of variant wills, 
and brother all to human. He also found each 
phase of all was born in realm unknown, of pow- 
er unseen, nor yet was earth's nor earthy. And 
true, as said at Temple of Sais, that all that was, 
and all that is, and all to be, was hidden by veil 
of mystery. Then came to him a dream. 

He looked to life awing and reasoned thus: 
The tumbling scarab was self-begotten. The 
stoic heron was gift of river. The splendid eagle 
was Lord of Vision. The sparrow hawk was mes- 
senger of sunlight. The Sacred Ibis was Father 
John of hades. The lofty vulture was mother 
force of nature. While each had gift, and each 
was haunt, of deity. 

And then he looked again and reasoned thus: 

212 



The stealthy cat, of velvet tread, had come by 
huntress moon. The monarch bull, of worth to 
earth, saw life by ray of light. The cunning ape, 
of sight alert, kept watch where sins were 
weighed. The crocodile, of beady eyes, was evil's 
slimy self. The noble lion, of kingly mien, 
brought forth the morning hours. The wailing 
jackal, of filthy maw, led way to world below. 
And each had trait, and each was seat, of deity. 

And then his dream took higher flight, and 
showed him stranger wonders. He viewed the 
sweep of time, and everywhere saw powers. 
Chaos had her Mother Mut; air and light had 
Mother Shu. Seb was chief of earth; Nut 
was queen of vaulted sky. Mentu tript with 
morn; Atmu saw the eve to rest. Kohns sat 
Luna's throne; Hathor ruled abyss of night. 
Khem was force to vegetable growth; Kneph 
gave breath to the races of men. Osiris spake 
word of the under land court; Chnemu declared, 
/ am the resurrection and the life. 

And then his draam went yet to nobler flight. 
He saw his land had life by Nile and sun. And 
one he knew to worship, to render tribute of his 
love. So great, to him, it seemed, he willed its 
care to Hapi, the helpful one, the god of fruit 
and flowers. The sun, the great, the far away, 
yet ever near, he also sought to solve and serve. 
And so, on wings of dream, he went to heights, to 
mortal thought, till then, unknown. 

He saw the world imbound by light, the 
heavens robed in beauty. The Source, the Fount, 

213 



of all, appeared to grow in grandeur. Too great, 
in time, it seemed, for seat of single deity. And 
so, confused and awed, he prayed of Ptah, the ar- 
tist god, to speak to him of sun. This then the 
word: 

Its disk was throne of Aten. Its light was 
sheen of Horus, the harbinger of spring. Its rays, 
so soft, so soothing, were smiles of sunbeam Sati. 
Its heat, by which the valleys thrilled, came forth 
from Bast, the mother soul of nature. Its force, 
of fiery will, was energy of Khepra, the strong, 
the stern, the tireless. Its glowing heart held 
Amen-Ra, the One, the spirit One, the only One, 
the dweller in darkness, the spreader of heavens, 
the Lord of Truth, the Lord of Eternity. Its full- 
orbed splendor, concealed yet One more wise 
than all, more worthy than all, of power unsaid, 
of glory undreamed, the inscrutable, the un- 
knowable, the everlasting unto everlasting, who, 
queried for name, vouchsafed but answer, Nuk 
Pu Nuk, I AM THE I AM. And wing of thought 
had touched the throne of God. 



214 



DEVOTIONAL POEMS 



LIFE BEAUTIFUL. 

Tho fears abide, 
Hope springs ; 
Tho ills betide, 
Joys sings ; 
And the blithesome birds wake sylvan lays, 
And the winding winds bear mystic praise. 
And the laughing leaves kiss finger tips, 
And the blushing blooms lift ruby lips ; 
Tho hate may sneer, 

Love gains; 
Tho doubt may jeer, 
God reigns. 

Tho dark be night, 

Day soon; 
Tho earth be white, 
Comes June; 
And the regnant rays shall rule the land, 
And the romping rills give mirth command, 
And the wooing woods know bliss supreme. 
And the winning world make life a dream ; 
Tho foe be strong, 

Love pleads ; 
Tho way be long, 
God leads. 



217 



CLOUDLIGHT. 

I marked the legions troop adown the sky, 
And viewed the molten darts zizzag to earth. 

And saw a promise arched by hand on high, 
To give to gentle hope a newer birth. 

I marked the billows of the giant deep. 

And felt them wildly surge in fierce unrest, 
And heard the ocean sigh to soothing sleep, 

As soft as baby one on mother breast. 

I marked the forests stand in splendid night. 
And watched them bravely front the angry 
blast. 
And saw the shadows chase the golden light. 
As soon as tempest wraiths had thundered 
past. 

I marked the lily gem the laughing lea, 
And smile to mortal eyes thro dewy tears. 

And heard the zephyr sing to bird and bee, 
And speak to heavy hearts thro mortal ears. 

And where was darkness, light was waiting nigh, 
And where was anger, love yet winged a dream, 

And where was tumult, peace was standing by. 
And where was error, truth yet reigned 
supreme. 



218 



WISDOM, POWER AND MERCY. 



When, in the morning, wooes the golden day. 
And path, awaiting, seems a joy-lit way, 
Tho souls, exulting, thoughts of ills deride. 
Lord God of Wisdom, yet do Thou but guide. 

When, in the noonday, glares the burning heat, 
And coils of worries wind about the feet, 
Tho fears should harry and poor wage we earn, 
Lord God of Power, yet to Thee we turn. 

When, in the ev'ning, wanes the rosy light. 
And, all aweary, strength gives o'er the fight, 
Tho hearts be heavy and desire be low. 
Lord God of Mercy, yet to Thee we go. 



2i9 



BE NOT AFRAID. 

Should voice of storm affright the air, 
And tempest near with flashing blade, 

Yet One, of might beyond compare. 
Bids fainting hearts. Be not afraid. 

And should the angry waters leap, 
And dangers press, in ranks arrayed, 

Yet One, whose will controls the deep. 
Bids fainting hearts. Be not afraid. 

And should the day to darkness grow. 
And all the lights of heaven fade, 

Yet One, whom angels joy to know. 
Bids fainting hearts. Be not afraid. 

And should we dare to walk the sea. 
And, sinking, cry for saving aid. 

The One, whose word gives victory, 
Bids fainting hearts. Be not afraid. 

And, lo, a hush becalms the wave, 

And strength divine is now displayed. 

And One, who came the lost to save. 
Bids fainting hearts. Be not afraid. 

O, child of doubt, engirt by gloom, 
Let all your fears be now allayed. 

For One, supreme, beyond the tomb. 
Bids fainting hearts. Be not afraid. 

220 



SAFE IN THE CARE OP GOD. 

Safe in the care of God, 

Joy replete, 
Lies the one we love, 

Life so fleet; 
Ne'er again to moan. 

Wounded sore. 
But to be sorrow free, 

Forevermore. 

Safe in the care of God, 

O, so blest. 
Sleeps the one we love. 

Soft at rest ; 
Ne'er again to cry. 

Unto night, 
Nor to go way of woe, 

To gain the light. 

The loved is safely now, 

In holy keep. 
Then why, tho heart bereft, 

Should yet we weep? 
Unwise to call the lost. 

In soul despond. 
For, lo, our angel ones 

But wait beyond. 

221 



THANKS. 

For the worlds, whose wondrous story 

Makes known thy awesome might, 
For the suns, whose founts of glory 

Pour forth thy golden light, 
For the heights, supreme with grandeur. 

Where but thy feet have trod. 
For the depths, profound with wisdom, 

We thank Thee, O our God. 

For the hills, where rills are dancing, 

And birds trill sweetest lays. 
For the vales, where brooks are glancing, 

And winds sigh softest praise. 
For the woods, where shadows slumber. 

And dreaming branches nod. 
For the fields, where all is beauty, 

We thank Thee, O our God. 

For the heart, of consecration, 

To pulse with love so strong. 
For the voice, of adoration. 

To waft aloft in song. 
For the strength, of faith unfailing, 

To walk through ills unawed. 
For the dream of joy transcending. 

We thank Thee, O our God. 



For the trust, so pure and lowly, 

When grief has wrung the soul. 
For the hope, so sure and holy, 

That gains the final goal. 
For the prayer, devoutly winging. 

As, weary, here we plod. 
For the bliss, awaiting yonder, 

We thank Thee, O our God. 



223 



O THOU, MY SOUL. 

O Thou, my Spirit, ne'er repine, 
Before thee lies the realm divine. 
Where worn shall know a glad release, 
And life begin nor e'er shall cease. 
And all is peace. 

O Thou, my spirit, hope be thine. 
Nor once thyself to doubt resign. 
Nor care to court the shades of night, 
Where error stalks, and ills affright. 
But seek the light. 

O Thou, my Spirit, O my Soul, 
Dwell Thou in love, give love control, 

O Thou, my Soul; 
Oh Thou my Spirit, O my Soul, 
Look Thou above, be life thy goal, 

O Thou, my Soul. 



224 



APR 15 1912 



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